


Caught between 93 and 99

by JustLyra



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLyra/pseuds/JustLyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex wakes up in Jorge's bed after a drunken night. It has to be a one off... Doesn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice Bath

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get some inspiration back. Hoping this one will help! Let me know what you think. The dynamic of this pair, of the complications of Marc and how important he is to Alex, and how influential he is on Alex, have just made it swirl round and round in my head.  
> Hope it works!!

Opening his eyes, eyelids sticky from sweat and residue from the foam party, Alex winced in pain, his head thumping, bones aching after crashing in the race and new pains in his back, on his thighs and in other places...

"Hngsdalkdc."

Jumping at the sound of another voice, not a voice he instintively recognised, meaning it didn't belong to his parents, Marc, Tito or Emilio, Alex's eyes shot open, darting about as he tried to recall when he'd redecorated his room in the motorhome before the realisation that 'What the **fuck** are those curtains supposed to be?' actually meant ' _Where_ the fuck am I?'

"Oh," The voice sounded closer, it's owner clearly having sat up, as surprised as Alex, "Erm. Hi. Morning."

Blushing a furious shade of red as their legs moving, accidentally touching, clarified to him that they were indeed both stark naked, Alex tried to smile, "Hey."

"This is... unexpected..." Picking up his phone to check the time, somewhat relieved that it was only 6am and there would be no search party out looking for mini-Marquez, Jorge stretched his back, wincing as crusty red scratches freed themselves from the sheet, "You need your nails cut..."

Laughing and cringing at the same time Alex rolled his eyes, turning his back towards the older man, "So do you..."

"Oooh... Sorry... You have a bruise..." Fingers instinctively reaching to touch the purpling skin Jorge's hand flew back to his side when Alex flinched, "Sorry..."

Trying not to cry, or act like a naive 18-year-old who'd never woke up in bed with his brother's biggest rival before (despite being a slightly naive 18-year-old who'd never woke up in bed with his brother's biggest rival before) Alex shook his head, "It hurts. It's from the race."

"Ah," Jorge nodded, eyes tracing over the other marks on Alex's torso, "You need an ice bath."

Shivering at the thought Alex frowned, "No thanks. I've got some Arnica..."

"Arnica doesn't work," Sage and serious Jorge moved his neck from side to side, not flinching at the loud cracking sounds, "Ice baths are painful, but they really help. Wheelie bins are the best way to do it."

Shaking his head Alex couldn't help the burst of laughter escaping from his belly.

"What's so funny?"

"I've woke up in bed, with you, and we're talking about wheelie bins... It's not really what I expected when I opened my eyes this morning..."

"What did you expect?" Always one to hold his cards close to his chest Jorge's tone and body language gave nothing away, he didn't seem to be kicking Alex out of the door, but neither was he pinning the taller man to the bed, leaving Alex with no real clue what he expected.

"Paracetamol and a glass of water," Alex shrugged, "Possibly a lecture from my brother."

"For going to bed with me?"

"He'd go fucking ape shit if he knew about that," Alex shook his head, face darkening when the reality hit him, he was in bed with his brother's biggest rival, "About the shots, in the club..."

"You are 18, it's up to you what you do..." Jorge shrugged, Marc's opinion didn't matter to him, his personal life was not his rival's business.

Alex chuckled, shaking his head at Jorge's naivety, "You don't have a brother, do you?"

"You know I don't."

"Marc is protective. It's what brother's do."

"I know what brothers do, Alex, I have a sister."

"Are you over-protective?"

"I used to be," Jorge laughed, remembering his sister's fury when he interrupted her being chatted up in a nightclub, "Until she pointed out that I attempt suicide by motorbike on a daily basis so I had no right to warn her off alcohol or boys."

"Fair point," Alex chuckled, his face momentarily lighting up before darkening again, voice dropping quiet, "I should go..."

"If that's what _you_ want..."

"It's what I should do."

Stretching, letting the sheet slip down, unashamedly smirking as the younger man's eyes trailed down his chest, drifting over his muscles, Jorge shrugged, "Like I said, if that's what you want to do."

"You're very calm..." Alex bit his lip, shrugging his shoulders nervously, "Given the circumstances... If people find out."

Tone flat, even, just a tiny hint of _something_ , Jorge laughed, "No-one is going to find out."

"Normally I tell Marc everything."

"Tell Marc what you like."

Alex frowned, confused by the blasé tone of the Mallorcan, all of Emilio's lectures and warnings blending in with Marc's constant words emphasising how careful Alex had to be, how no-one could _know_ , "You... It's not a secret?"

"Of course it is," Jorge shook his head, getting slightly irritated by the talking, his head thumping.

"So, if I tell Marc?"

"Alex, if you tell Marc he's not going to out me is he, because to do that would involve outing you, which he is not going to do... Is he?"

"No..." Suddenly uncomfortable, very unsure of himself, Alex reached to the floor, grabbing his shirt and jeans, "I should go."

"As I said Alex, whatever you want to do," Running a finger across the back of the younger man's shoulders Jorge smiled, "Maybe I can see you again some time?"

Standing up to pull on his jeans, trying not to cringe about the fact his red, scratched (and possibly bitten) arse and back were on show to Jorge, given that Jorge caused the injuries, Alex shrugged, trying to sound cool, calm and collected, "Yeah, maybe."

*

"Come ooooonnnnnn..... Tell me **_something_** at least!"

"Nothing to tell."

"I'll tell Mama if you keep telling lies...."

"I'm not..."

"You have scratches and bites on your neck," Marc laughed, tilting his head, pretending to draw his eyes over Alex's body, "And I bet in other places.... AND you were out all night... Who was she? Do I know her? Will you see her again?"

Dropping his head onto the table Alex sighed, "Marc, _please_..."

"Come on," Marc shook his head, desperate for information, "At least tell me if you'll see her again?"

"Maybe, I dunno," Alex shrugged, his brain turning and whirring, making his hangover even worse, "I doubt it."

"Was it good?"

"Marc!"

"That means yes..." Standing up Marc shook his head, mock frowning, "I need to take tips from you little brother, mine was distinctly average...." Muttering, almost to himself since Alex wasn't listening, Marc sighed, "Why do I not have any groupies that can give a decent blow job?"

"Marc Márquez i Alentà!"

Alex's entire body shook as tears of laughter pooled in his eyes at the horrified look on his brother's face.

"And you can wipe that smile Alex. Staying out all night? Clattering in here like a herd of deer at 6.30am...."

"Sorry Mama..." Speaking in unison, not daring to look at each other for fear of inviting a laughter attack neither could escape from, something they frequently did (and got in trouble for!) as children, Marc and Alex escaped their mother by retreating to their rooms, each flopping onto their beds, thinking about the night before, wondering about the whys and wherefores.

Picking up his phone, expecting the text to be from his brother, Alex frowned at the sight of an unknown number, always suspicious whenever anyone random got a hold of his private number.

**_Try the ice bath. It really works better than Arnica... This is my number btw, in case you ever want to get in touch._ **

Closing his eyes, keeping his hands on top of the duvet, Alex sighed, trying to recall the events of the night before, trying to work out **how** he'd ended up in bed with Jorge Lorenzo of all people.

Other than some shots at the bar, maybe five or perhaps seven, all Alex's brain would let him remember was the moment in the foam, spraying everywhere from a hose, dancing to the music where two hands, obviously a man's hands because of their size, landed on his hips, pulling his back to their chest, moving them both in time to the heavy beat.

His fingers twitched as he remember the moment he was turned, the second they realised who the other was, the shocked wide-eyed look on Jorge's face no doubt perfectly mirrored on his own. That was the moment, he thought, the moment he should have walked away, should have made a joke, pretended to be drunker, anything, to just break the moment between them. He didn't walk away, he didn't and Jorge didn't, instead he closed his eyes, moved his hips to the music, forgot (or ignored) the fact that Jorge's hands were still on his hips. He ignored it all; the hands on his hips, the same hands snaking under his shirt, fingertips tracing over his skin, a thumb brushing over his nipple, the sound of his gasp being swallowed by Jorge's mouth on his, Jorge's tongue pushing into his mouth as Jorge pushed him against a wall, in a corridor somewhere that Alex had no idea how they'd ended up in.

Pressing his palm down against his cock through the sheet Alex sighed hard as the images kept filtering back to him. Him on his knees, the ground at the back of the club hard and rough on his knees, the weight and taste of Jorge's cock in his mouth, Jorge's fingers on his chin and cheek as he bobbed his head, the litany of profanities falling from Jorge's mouth as he shot his load down Alex's throat. Biting his lip he remembered the scraping of the stone against his back as Jorge pushed him against it, the Mallorcan smaller, but stronger, pulling open Alex's jeans and making him swear and growl as the cold night air mixed with the heat of Jorge's hand as it pumped up and down him, Jorge growling in his ear about how anyone could pass, could see Alex being manhandled by Jorge, could see Alex spunking over Jorge's hand and licking it clean.

Then there was the motorhome... There was Jorge's tongue, all over Alex's body, licking down his neck, flicking and tormenting his nipple, trailing painfully slowly down his stomach and his abs, then on his cock, licking him like a lolly and then... Then it was _there_ , on Alex's hole; licking flat, wet stripes over him, then jabbing, like a warm, soft cock trying to get inside him....

Giving in Alex thrust his hand into his pants. The memory of the burn; the conflict of the feeling of being split in two making him want to punch Jorge, but the feeling of Jorge's cock nudging against his prostate making him push back, wanting more, roaring around his head and body.

Marc would be furious if he knew. It was the most irresponsible thing he'd ever done, revealing his biggest secret to someone in the paddock, to _Jorge Lorenzo_. Emilio would have a heart attack, his father would get that disappointed look that was always a hundred times worse than being yelled at... It shouldn't have happened and despite the fact that Alex's hand was wrapped around his cock, his balls tightening, at the memory of the things that Jorge had done to him, at the way Jorge had made him beg and scream and _want_... Despite all of that Alex knew it could never happen again.

**_Thanks for the advice. I'll give it a try once the hangover is gone! Alex_ **

**_Anytime..._ **


	2. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once is a mistake. Twice is not going to happen... Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I've got a bit of spark back. Hope you are liking this one. Let me know!

One race. Alex had managed to avoid him for one whole race.

Le Mans was so big and spread out that it was easy to hide. The banning of Moto2 and Moto3 guys from having motorhomes in the paddock meant he could hide in his own motorhome, the extra guys on his team making it justifiable for Alex to bring his own now, even if he rarely slept in it. The fact it rained all weekend meant that people didn't wander or linger, they just dashed from one place to the other. Alex had simply pulled his cap low, his collar high, and ran from garage to motorhome to Marc's motorhome and back again.

Then came Mugello and Mugello was different, but Mugello was always different. He played the avoiding game from Wednesday until Sunday. Successfully so, managing to lose himself in the never-ending crowd of yellow-clad Italians who were interested in everyone for a photo or autograph, but would literally run away from you, sometimes not even taking their pen back, at the merest hint of Vale appearing somewhere.

It wasn't the yellow-clad fanatics who ruined Alex's determination to stay away from Jorge though, it was Jack Miller. His championship rival. His Jorge. Sort of.

**_Are you ok? That was fucking unlucky. Nothing you could do. Catalunya will be better for you._ **

The text threw Alex into a spin. He wasn't expecting it. He'd had one from Marc, containing a great deal more swearing than Jorge's, threatening to find Miller and carry out a very big brother-ish revenge on him. He hadn't replied, Marc hadn't expected him too and that meant Alex could read the text, nod in agreement then put his phone back down, could just chill on his bed, ignoring the world, but Jorge, like Mugello, was different. He didn't know that Alex didn't reply. He didn't know and that meant Alex didn't know; Alex didn't know if Jorge expected a reply, didn't know if Jorge was waiting a reply... He didn't know anything anymore.

It wasn't that Alex hadn't thought about Jorge, about what had happened in Jerez; far from it, it had been on his mind every moment that he hadn't been on the bike, but it surprised him that Jorge had got in touch. That there was a hint of _something_ , care perhaps, in Jorge's tone, as much as you can tell tone from a text. He still couldn't work out what Jorge's tone in the morning meant.

Jorge had been as surprised as Alex to see Alex in his bed, but he hadn't seemed surprised to find a man in his bed. Alex had been stunned when he turned to find Jorge in front of him at the club, but it didn't come as a huge surprise to Alex that Jorge was gay. He had been secretive enough with his own lifestyle, knowing the world that they lived in, that he had always known that anyone else in the paddock would be equally secretive. He'd had a few brief encounters with other people; one other rider when they were both barely teenagers, sloppy kisses and a brief fumble under a duvet in the motorhome, and later with a mechanic, older and more experienced, who taught Alex how good the things he felt ashamed about wanting could really be. There had been girls too, some in the beginning in a bid to prove to himself that he did like girls, then a couple to try and persuade himself to like them, and then one friend, both of them in denial, with who the sex was actually good, but not like the mechanic. More confirmation than discouragement.

When his phone beeped again, Marc asking him if he was coming to congratulate Tito, it took Alex 4 minutes and several seconds before he realised he'd been disappointed. Disappointed that it wasn't Jorge texting, again, and Alex had no idea what the fuck that meant.

*

"Yes!!!" Pointing to his team as he lifted his second place trophy Jorge sighed in happiness and relief.

The crowd weren't interested in Jorge, or even Marc; with Vale on the third step of the podium next to them their presence was barely required. Waiting for the roaring to quieten down enough for the Spanish anthem to be played for Marc's win Jorge caught sight of Alex.

Jorge had always known he was gay. Most people knew if they were asked, or were honest, but everyone did him the courtesy of not confirming it, all of them aware of the shit he'd get from the press, the public and his own father. He'd had a couple of brief relationships, well one night stands that had to be turned into short relationships to stop angry people selling out on him. His one long term relationship was well known. Everyone knew he'd lived with Ricky and anyone who knew them both well had known that they had lived together. Their close friendship had blossomed to more and many a night had been whiled away on the sofa, or in their bed, exploring each other, finding their limits, likes and dislikes together. The relationship had lasted for several years before drifting back to friendship when Ricky's bisexuality became something he couldn't ignore. Jorge was a jealous man, he could only claim to be _not bothered_ about Ricky fucking the occasional girl for so long. As their friendship, the very base of their relationship that had been in place for years before sex and feelings had come into play, began to crack under the strain of the constant jealous rows they'd made the most adult decision of their life. They knew in the glare of the paddock pushing the relationship until the point they hated each other, Jorge's reaction to his brief fling with Vale going wrong heavy in their minds, was a very bad idea. So they became friends again.

It wasn't easy for Jorge. He loved Ricky. The fact that he didn't wake up in the morning with Ricky next to him, Ricky's mouth half open, the little snuffly almost-snores creeping out, his hair ruffled and the darkness of his emerging beard making him look older, despite the loss of the constant worry etched on his forehead about getting a new team, not losing his seat to someone younger, better or richer, didn't take those feelings away. He did get some comfort from the fact that Ricky was happier; free to be who he truly was, but he was lonely. He wanted what Ricky had, that freedom.

Looking at Alex he wondered if Alex was that freedom. There was no denying the sex had been good. He hadn't realised that the tall, sexy stranger dancing in front of him in the haze of foam and alcohol was Alex Marquez. If he had he wouldn't have risked it, but the moment Alex's eyes looked over him he was lost. The whiteness of the younger man's teeth visible as they bit into his lip, his face a mixture of panic and lust before it melted into relief at the realisation that Jorge couldn't tell because if he did he'd have to explain and he'd be the bigger story.

In bed, even in the corridor and in the car park, Alex had been beautiful. He looked beautiful and he made beautiful sounds. He reacted to every touch, to Jorge's fingers teasing him, to Jorge's tongue licking him open, with unashamed desire and Jorge fucking loved it. Buried balls deep into Alex he had felt like he was going to explode, Alex's beautiful, lithe, back in front of him, arching into his nails as they raked down, his hips rocking against Jorge's, asking, _begging_ , to be fucked and taking **everything** that Jorge had given him.

Catching Alex's eye, the slight red blush moving across his cheeks, his teeth biting his lip again, Jorge sighed into a casual looking smile. It couldn't happen again. It shouldn't happen again, but Jorge wanted it to happen again, regardless of the consequences.

*

Montmelo was manic. It was home; safe and secure, yet crazy all at the same time. The buzz of winning at home, of winning at home on the same day his brother won at home and them both winning on the same day that Tito also won saw Alex on the highest high of his career so far.

Karaoke, champagne, and celebrations were wild in the Honda hospitality area. Feeling like he could achieve anything Alex stumbled outside, phone in hand, cock already twitching.

**_Hey. You still around?_ **

**_No. Just got home. You ok?_ **

**_Ah fuck. Was going to come by :(_ **

**_Why?_ **

**_To celebrate!_ **

**_I was fourth._ **

**_I won!_ **

**_I know. Congratulations._ **

**_I want to thank you. The ice bath helped. A lot._ **

**_You don't have to see me to thank me. How drunk are you?_ **

**_Not enough to think it's a good idea, but drunk enough to not care..._ **

**_My house is 20 minutes from the track._ **

**_If that's an invitation then I'm calling a taxi._ **

**_Don't get a taxi. Someone will see. I'll send someone for you._ **

****

Standing outside Alex momentarily thought about how bad an idea this was. Then Marc, Jorge's trainer, friend to Ricky, the Espargaro's and everyone that Marc didn't really like, wandered past.

"Hi. Good win today."

"Thanks."

"You needing a lift into the city?"

"No thanks, I'm..." Pausing as Marc tilted his head, car keys in his hand, smiling kindly at him, Alex nodded, "Erm, yeah. Thanks. That'd be great..."

*

Shuffling through the open door, Marc having dropped him off inside of the walls of Jorge's home, hands stuffed into his pockets, having sent Marc a brief text, his brother assuming he was with a girl and him not correcting the thought, Alex felt extremely sober and even more nervous, "Hi..."

"Hey..." Slightly nervous, calmed slightly by the sheer terror in Alex's face making it clear he wasn't alone in fear, Jorge wandered over to Alex; glass of wine in hand, hair still damp from the shower, bare feet slapping slightly on the tiles, jeans and a plain t-shirt on, stopping in front of him with a smile, "Well done on the win..."

Smiling wide, conversation on safe territory, Alex nodded, "Thanks."

"Wine?" Holding out his glass, both of them shivering at the spark as their fingers brushed, Jorge laughed at Alex gulping down the wine, "You know that was expensive wine..."

"I don't like wine."

"What do you like?"

Backed against Jorge's front door, the older man's damp skin under his fingers, their tongues tangling in his mouth, Alex still wasn't sure it was a good idea, but as Jorge pressed against him, he really didn't care, he liked it.


	3. Wine & Crisps

"You're staring..."

"Sorry," Alex blushed, knowing full well that Jorge knew his eyes had been tracing the older man's back as he cooked, his shirt left on his bedroom floor from earlier, Alex equally clad in pulled on jeans, his shirt somewhere in Jorge's hallway.

Bringing two plates to the table Jorge's face was a picture of smug and smirk and he winked, "Not your fault."

"Modest..." Taking a spoonful of the pasta, originally nervous at the random things that had been thrown into the pan seemingly without any thought, Alex nodded, impressed, "This is really good."

Finishing his mouthful, napkin on his lap, manners immaculate despite their attire, Jorge shook his head, laughing, "Why are you so surprised?"

"You don't look like the cooking type..." Alex laughed, no venom in his voice, just an honest statement, the older man somehow putting him at ease to be blunt and open.

"I live by myself," Jorge laughed, "I'd starve if I couldn't cook."

"Ah yes, I forgot you were too poor to hire a cook or order takeaways..."

"Touché..." Watching Alex eat, the younger man's nerves left in the hallway with the first orgasm Jorge had ripped from him, Alex pinned to the wall, them rutting against each other, Jorge's hand wrapped around them both as the urgency won over anything sensible like waiting to go upstairs, Jorge looked contemplative, "You are not what I thought either..."

"In what way?"

"You are nothing like your brother."

"Why would I be?"

Alex's voice hardened, in a way that Jorge didn't understand, him having meant no offence whatsoever, "Brothers are often alike. I just assumed..."

"Right."

"What does that mean?" Jorge smiled, a nervous, perturbed smile, reaching for Alex's hand over the table, "I didn't mean anything by it."

Putting his spoon down Alex shook his head, "Of course you didn't."

"Where are you...." Watching Alex stomp away from the table, grabbing his shoes and clothes as he went Jorge got up, his napkin thrown onto the table, wine almost knocked over, "Alex?"

Shaking his head, tears stinging his eyes, Alex buttoned up his shirt wrong as he pushed his feet into his trainers, "That's what this was about then? _Marc_..."

"What? No!"

"Of course not," Pulling his jacket on, Alex took out his phone before realising that he couldn't even call a cab because he didn't know the exact address, or the gate code, or even where to call that could be trusted, "Who do you use for taxis?"

"Alex... There's no need for this. It's not..." Sighing hard as Alex made for the door Jorge bit his lip, "Alex."

"I _want_ a taxi."

Looking at the younger man, tears pooling in his eyes, betrayal written all over his expressive face, Jorge knew there was no point in trying to talk to him in that moment, "I'll sort you one."

"I'll wait outside."

"There's really no need for that. This had nothing to do with Marc. I didn't know it was you, in the club, I really didn't..."

"Whatever," Walking outside, sitting on one of the huge rattan sofas Alex held his head in his hands, wondering how he'd managed to go so wrong.

*

Stopping in his tracks Alex sighed, "I thought you'd still be at the track..."

"And I thought _you_ would be out all night...." Marc laughed, beer in hand, sat on the sofa next to Tito, Playstation controllers between them, game paused when Alex came in, "Didn't have you down for the _love em and leave em_ type little brother!"

Grabbing a beer from the table, downing it in three big gulps, lid discarded somewhere in the general direction of the bin, Alex belched loud and glowered at Marc and Tito, "What?"

"You ok?" Marc sounded concerned.

"Fine," Alex shook his head, tone bitter and wounded, as he reached for a second beer, "Just fucking fine."

"Alex..."

"I don't want to talk about it, fuck..." Cursing as he missed the bin with another lid Alex shook his head, "Someone wasn't what I thought. That's all."

Sighing hard, having hoped his brother would somehow miss out on the glory hunting girls who managed to convince you they were serious long enough to actually get under your skin, Marc lifted one of the controllers, "You want to be Barca?"

*

"You ok little brother?"

Looking up from the floor, having decided after beer 8, Alex frowned, his voice playful, "Tito... You know that we're not _actually_ related don't you?"

"I'm wounded..." Shaking his head Tito pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, before sniffing dramatically, "I thought you loved me."

Smiling, an overly dramatic, sickly sweet look, Alex chuckled, "Tito... I will **always** let you make me pancakes...."

"Thank you Alex," Tito clutched a hand to his chest, "I will **always** have a purpose in life knowing that."

"You are a pair of freaks, you know that right?" Marc shook his head, crumbs from his crisps, his reward to himself for winning his home race, sprinkling from his mouth as he got up to fetch more beer from the kitchen.

"Takes one to know Marquez!" Tito laughed. Waiting for Marc to be out of earshot he put a hand on Alex's shoulder, "You ok?"

"Yeah."

"You know that you are a shit liar?"

Alex giggled, "I know... Remember when I ate that slice of lemon tart at Marc's birthday party. Mama knew I was lying."

"That's because you had lemon curd all over your face and t-shirt..." Tito laughed, the memory of Roser quickly slicing the cake and spraying squirty cream onto the plate to try and hide the fact that there was a piece missing amusing him.

Smiling wide, almost childish, Alex giggled again, "It was nice cake."

"I know... Seriously, you ok?"

"Yeah, someone just turned out to be not what I thought."

"He mess you around? Want me to go and beat him up?"

Almost giving himself whiplash turning round Alex's eyes were wide, "What?"

"The mystery man, you want me to beat him up?" Tito frowned, Alex knew that Tito knew so his reaction made the older man curious.

"Ah," Alex relaxed, shaking his head, "No. Not worth the energy."

"What happened? He's not going to sell you out?" Concern written all over his face Tito wished, for the millionth time, that Alex would just confide in Marc about his sexuality, always proud of the fact that Alex trusted him, but knowing they worked much better as a trio than as two double acts.

"No."

"You are sure? You are more famous now than before..."

"He won't," Alex interrupted, shrugging his shoulders slightly, biting his lip until Tito twigged that it was someone in the paddock, someone with an equal (or more) amount to lose.

"Ah. Right. Not going to cause you any problems?"

"No, he's not a team boss or anything."

"Ok, I'm getting the _'shut the fuck up'_ vibe so I will, but you know, if you want to talk..." Hand patting Alex's shoulder Tito picked up another beer.

"I know," Alex smiled gratefully, "Thanks."

"That's what big brothers are for."

Alex nodded, wishing himself for the gazillionth time he'd told Marc, and knowing he'd have to tell him at some point, his hand forced by the situation he sighed hard, he looked up to Tito and shrugged, "I don't know if it was because he wants Marc or if he was trying to get to Marc, but it was about Marc..."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Really shit because..." Blushing hard, then shrugging, enough alcohol in his system to not care about how bright red his words would make Tito, "Because the sex was fucking amazing..."

"Salt n Vinegar or Cheese n Onion?!"

"Neither!" Tito laughed, Marc's tactic of trying to persuade one of them to have crisps so he could steal some (therefore not breaking his one packet only rule...) well known to them both, "Stop being fucking greedy..."

"You'll get fat!" Alex hooted.

Hand back on Alex's shoulder Tito's voice dropped quiet, "If it was about Marc then you'll need to tell him."

"I know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Alex paused, forehead frowning, "He said I wasn't what he expected. He expected me to be more like Marc."

"And that was a bad thing?"

"I assume so."

"You assume so?" Tito frowned, knowing that as brilliantly as the brothers got on Alex still had the tiny element of hero worship, that he was sometimes too quick to believe that people only liked him for who his brother was, "You didn't check?"

"I'm sure." Alex nodded, "Yes."

"If you're sure then you'll have to tell Marc. If you're not sure though..."

Flopping down on the sofa, three beer cans in his hand, packet of crisps stuffed in his pocket, Marc looked between the two, "Not sure about what?"

"Salt n Vinegar or Cheese n Onion..."


	4. Small World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FYI - This is set in the 2014 season. Results will stay the same as they were.

"Earth to Jorge..." Waving his hand in front of Jorge's face Ricky shook his head, laughing, "You alright?"

Sitting at a table, supposed to be eating lunch, just finished a Motocross day with Ricky and the boys, Jorge nodded, "Sorry. Was miles away."

"You should talk to him..." Aware of the situation after Jorge drank the rest of his wine collection after receiving a, drunk, bitter text from Alex, before one of the neighbours called Ricky in concern (it had been several years since they'd been treated to naked Jorge singing karaoke on the roof terrace at 3am), Ricky put his hand on Jorge's shoulder, "Explain..."

Pursing his lips, Jorge shook his head, shoulders high and hunched, "Why should I? Why should I have to? He's the one that jumped to an assumption..."

"True," Ricky admitted, knowing how hurt Jorge was at Alex's text accusation that he was trying to play mind games with Marc by using him, "But he's 18... We all make mistakes at 18."

"We make them at 26 as well," Jorge stabbed up a forkful of pasta, "For all I know **he** could be the one playing games... Him and his fucking brother."

"Don't get paranoid," Ricky's voice contained a warning, a plea to remember how paranoid he got after sleeping with Valentino, when he thought that everyone at Yamaha was out to get him, that they were on a mission to ruin his career.

"I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget that Alex fucking Marquez exists."

"If you say so..." Getting up to head for the shower Ricky patted his shoulder.

Moving more pasta around his plate Jorge nodded, sheer determination on his face, "I do."

All he had to do was find a way to rid his dreams of images of the wide-eyed, softly moaning Alex that seemed determined to haunt him.

*

"Fucking brilliant," Jorge muttered into his beer bottle, aware of Ricky and Marc's concerned looks next to him, "Just what I need..."

Assen had meant two things. An absolute disaster of a race for Jorge, 2013 haunting him on the slippery track, and Hector's birthday. Whilst he no longer worked for Jorge they were still friends, better friends in fact than when they had worked together. There would not be many people whose birthday would have seen Jorge drag himself to a Dutch bar after such a race, but Hector was one. However, Jorge had completely forgotten about the Marquez factor, which meant beer 3 was followed swiftly by a whisky chaser as he tried to numb the pain of seeing a smiley looking Alex laughing and joking at the other end of the reserved table.

*

"You ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Alex knocked back the shot of red liquid, wincing as his throat burned.

Tito frowned, "I'm not sure, but you don't seem ok. You don't normally drink so much..."

"I'm celebrating, I won," Watching Jorge walk to the bar, the older man standing next to Tito to wait his turn, Alex smiled wide at Tito, "I _mastered_ the conditions today... Not everyone could."

Utterly baffled by the strange tone in Alex's voice, the younger man normally having to be pushed and cajoled into praising himself, Tito nodded, "You did, but go easy. Still a long way to go in the season."

"I know," Alex slurred, "It's cool. It's alllllll cool."

"Right," Tito didn't buy it, turning to the barman, "Orange juice for me please, Jorge can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks, I'm just getting one for Hector before I leave."

"Ok, just the juice please...." Turning back to Jorge Tito smiled ruefully, "Shit day out there today."

"Yeah," The Yamaha rider shrugged, something almost bitter in his tone, "We can't all be _masters_..."

Tito frowned at Alex's childish chuckle, watching his younger almost-brother walk away from the bar, a smirk on his face, then spotted the dark glare on Jorge's face and wondered what the score was. Jorge and Marc didn't particularly get on, but they didn't not get on either, it wasn't going to take a royal intervention between them, but Alex...

"You have to be fucking kidding me..." Startling everyone stood around him, including a baffled looking Jorge, Tito shook his head, paid the barman for his orange and scanned the room for Alex, needing confirmation of his hunch.

*

"Well if it isn't the _master of conditions_..."

Looking up from the sink Alex pouted, "What do you want?"

"I want......your fly is undone..." Jorge leant against the wall, trying to make the encounter look casual if anyone else came in.

"You shouldn't be looking at my fly..." Pulling up his zip, stance slightly wobbly through alcohol, Alex tried not to look at how form-fitting Jorge's dark t-shirt was, "What do you want?"

"I want to know where that came from? Why we went from having so much fun to you accusing me of something?" Unable to hide the hurt in his tone Jorge folded his arms across his chest, like a protective barrier between them.

Shaking his head, finger pointed at Jorge, his voice cracking, "You _know_..."

"I don't know!" Defensive, Jorge's hands flew to his hips, his head shaking, "I have no idea! I thought everything was good! You were surprised I can cook and I commented that you are not like your brother."

"Exactly!"

"Exactly what?"

"Exactly that!"

"Alex," Utterly baffled Jorge shook his head, "I have no idea why that was an issue... It was conversation."

Alex snorted, "Yeah right."

"IT fucking was!"

"Of course," Alex threw his hands in the air, narrowly missing his own eye with his fingers, "That's it. Nothing to do with getting at Marc in any way you could."

"You honestly believe that?" Looking at Alex, his glittering green eyes burning into Alex's head, "You really think my reaction in that club, what we did outside that club, _fuck_ what we both risked outside that club.... Inviting you to my house, doing the things we did... You think that was some gameplan involving your brother? _Really_? Really and truly?"

"Well..." His resolve faltering under the strength of Jorge's voice, the eyes piercing his brain, and the memories of the looks and touches and sounds that Jorge had made when they were together, the memory of the gentle kiss to his head Jorge had placed carefully when he thought Alex was asleep in Jorge's bed, in his home that he'd invited Alex too... "I..."

"Alex!" Tito shook his head as he marched in, "What the fuck? This isn't the time or place!"

"You told him?" Jorge looked at Alex, dumfounded.

"You shouldn't have followed him in here so obviously," Placing himself between the two Tito's tone of admonishment towards Jorge was stronger than intended, but he'd worry about causing offence later, "Marc is wondering where you are, he was going to come in and check on you..."

"Shit... I..." Alex floundered, flustered by Jorge's words and the threat of Marc somehow catching him making his stomach flip.

"Just go back to the table.... Now Alex..."

"Right..." Walking out of the door, pausing for a second as he passed Jorge, Alex closed his eyes and then painted on his Marquez smile as he wandered back towards his brother.

"You better not tell anyone..."

"Lose the tone Jorge," Tito shook his head, "I'm not likely to land my brother in the shit am I?"

"Right. Well, you better not..." Annoyed at the situation and the fact that Alex hadn't answered him, Jorge turned to leave.

"Jorge..."

"What?"

"He's 18 and he lives a lot of his life in a rather large Marc-shaped shadow..."

"Not my problem," Defence barriers high Jorge shrugged, attempting a show of not giving a fuck.

"Maybe not," Tito conceded, "But if you do like him, if you weren't playing games, then it would be a shame if that point wasn't made, or if the fact he was drunk tonight changed that. You know what it's like when people play games with you, mess with your head...."

"Hardy the same," Jorge huffed.

"Perhaps," Tito shrugged, "Just... Don't be a cunt... I know people expect that from you sometimes, but he doesn't deserve that, he deserves whatever it is you two have, assuming that it's genuine."

Jorge straightened his back, tone offended, " _Don't be a cunt_?"

"Yeah," Tito nodded, suddenly realising he'd just sworn heavily at one of the most influential characters on the grid, "I know people expect you to be something because of an image, but it's just an image. Don't be that guy..."


	5. Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! Illness and Red Light City have TOTALLY got in the way.
> 
> I don't like this chapter at all, but I needed to get them to a certain point so please forgive me!

"You ok?"

Nodding, not very convincingly, to Tito, lounging in Marc's motorhome, Alex shrugged, "I think... Maybe... I dunno, maybe he wasn't playing the game I thought."

"You won't know unless you speak to him..."

Shrugging his shoulders, Alex sounded unsure of himself, "I guess I'm nervous what he'll say... If he wasn't playing a game I haven't exactly shown myself to be a mature grown up, have I?"

"You really like him?" Tito put down the Playstation controller, hint of a smirk on his face, "Has little Alex Marquez fallen for someone?"

"Piss off..."

*

"Ibiza?"

"Yep."

"In the summer break?"

"Yep."

Ricky raised an eyebrow, confused and curious, "The summer break in which you were planning to eat salads and live in the gym?"

"Yep."

"Okay..." Ricky folded his arms, his feet up on the sofa, Jorge's motorhome even tidier than normal thanks to Jorge's ever increasing snappiness with his staff, "And this has _nothing_ to do with a certain Moto3 rider?"

"Nope."

"You don't think maybe you should speak to him?"

"Nope."

"Maybe it'd be easier when he was sober?"

"Nope."

Ricky sighed, getting to his feet and patting Jorge's leg, "Well I'm _so_ glad we had this conversation..."

"Fuck off."

*

"Did you speak to him?"

Packing their stuff in the car, the three of them taking a road trip to Tarifa for a 10 day break in the sun, Alex shook his head, "No. I tried to find him, but he seemed to disappear. He went straight back to Switzerland on his jet apparently."

"You could text him?" Tito closed the boot, chucking his bottle of water, sunglasses and iPad on the back seat.

Alex put on his sunglasses, him driving the first stint since Marc's date the night before had meant a late night, and shrugged, "I'll try at Indy. I want to speak to him face-to-face. Find out if..."

"If?" Smiling, teasing, Tito wiggled his eyebrows, "If he fancies another round of Marquez loving..."

Alex blushed hard and shook his head, "Fuck off. MARC!! Move your arse or we'll go without you!!"

*

"Wine?" Ricky frowned, "It's 2pm?"

"I'm on holiday..."

"Right."

"If you don't like it then don't drink any," Jorge huffed.

"Whatever... What's the plan for tonight?"

"Thought we could try out that new club? They said they'd put us on the guest list. Maybe your _friend_ from last night will be there..."

Ricky laughed, trying to remember the name of the girl he'd played tonsil hockey with the night before, "Club sounds good to me."

*

"Ricky are you.... Sorry!" Backing out of the door, shaking his head to rid himself of the image of Ricky's skinny arse bobbing up and down, grateful the girl was covered by Ricky's body, Jorge turned to Jonathan, giggling hard, "Ricky isn't coming to the beach with us..."

"I didn't even hear him bring someone back!"

"Me neither. Although, to be fair," Jorge chuckled, "The Tequilla competition means he could have emptied my bank accounts, sold my house, and got me a Rossi tattoo and I wouldn't have noticed."

"He couldn't have sold your house..."

"Of all the things you could pick up on you chose _that_?"

"Yeah.... No-one wants to buy your house!"

"Fuck off!"

*

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"The first night of our holiday and you are going to stay in?" Marc looked incredulous.

"Yes," Alex shrugged, "I'm tired..."

"Tired? On the **first** night of our holiday?!"

"Yes Marc, on the first night of our holiday. You and Tito go..."

"Right," Marc frowned, "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm just tired and want to chill..."

"Do you want me to run you a bubble bath?" Marc snickered.

"Fuck off!"

*

"Nice of you to join us Cardus..."

Slightly pink cheeked Ricky slid onto the chair opposite Jorge, trying to ignore the amused smirks from the rest of the group, "Hey. How was the beach?"

"Sandy... How was your friend?"

"Noisy," Ricky laughed softly, "Ok, hit me with it. Let's get all of the jokes over with..."

"Does she have a sister?"

Turning to Carlos, Ricky burst out laughing, "She does actually. And a cat. And a dog. And a parrot. And a budgie..."

"And a zoo?" Jorge frowned, amused, but hoping Ricky hadn't managed his usual trick of meeting someone that would require a change of phone number and/or address when it ended.

"For fuck's sake..." Interrupting them the voice held a phone under Jorge's nose, "Did you notice paps at the beach?"

"What?" Taking the phone, flicking through the photos, Jorge cursed, "Wankers."

*

"I thought you were tired?" Shouting over the music Tito was confused.

Alex shrugged dramatically, vodka from the minibar in their room already drunk on his way, "Changed my mind..."

"Alex, what's going on?" Following Alex's eyeline, seeing him giving a guy at the end of the bar the once over, Tito sighed, "What about Jorge?"

"I don't have any orange shorts...." Grabbing the drinks he'd ordered, enough for the three of them, but that he intended to drink himself Alex downed a shot.

"Orange shorts?"

"He's fucking a guy with orange shorts... Look..." Taking his phone out of his pocket Alex held it up, "See!"

"They are carrying on in the sea?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Alex isn't assuming shit what caused trouble in the first place?"

"Yeah. Am right this time..." Turning to the bar Alex picked up the next shot, "Fuck him..."


	6. Accusations and Recriminations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! (again)

**_Hope you and orange shorts man have a lovely time together. Prick!_ **

Frowning at his phone, strobe lights from the club flashing over the screen, Jorge sighed. **Eh?**

**_You heard._ **

**_Whatever. Prick._ **

**Alex, I have no idea what you are talking about.**

**_Have fun in the sea with your 'friend'_ **

**I did have fun with my friend. He is my friend.**

*****

"Theywerehissssssshort."

Looking at Alex, the younger man sprawled half over the table, Marc looked confused, "What?"

"HIS shorts. He orange. Other one notornnnnge."

Sliding into the chair next to Alex, handing him a coffee, him having half dragged, half carried Alex back to their villa, "Who is orange?"

"Snotorngge..."

"Ok," Marc sighed, not enough alcohol in his own system to find it amusing, wishing he was back in the bar swapping looks with the pretty blond, "Who is not orange?"

" _Jorge_."

"Jorge?!" Marc's voice boomed in surprise, echoing round the quiet garden, "Lorenzo?"

"Yes!" Taking his phone out of his pocket Alex fumbled his way through to finding the photograph before slamming it on the table in front of Marc.

Picking up the phone, utterly confused about Alex's rage, Marc looked at the photo, trying, but failing, to find something offensive in Jorge and his mate, the tennis player whose name escaped in, messing in the sea, "Alex... What the fuck is going on?"

"He's fucking him," Pulling his sleeves over his hands, Alex looked sad.

Marc laughed, "He's not. The tennis dude is straight. Gah, what's his fucking name again?"

" _Jonathan_."

Narrowing his eyes, the way Alex spat the name throwing him, Marc put his arm around Alex's shoulders, his brother instinctively curling into his side, "Tell me what's wrong Alex..."

"I thought it was 'bout you but it wasn't andnowhesgoingtofuckhiminstead..."

*

Opening the beer bottle with his teeth Marc slumped into the plastic chair, the night air chilly, his head full of questions Alex was  too drunk, and asleep, to answer. Picking up his phone he scrolled through to find the number he couldn't remember getting before punching the message in.

*

"Fuck!" Springing out of bed, barging into Ricky's room, oblivious to the high pitched yelp from the naked girl who dived for the sheet, "I need your help."

Tilting his head, eyes wide, Ricky coughed, "Kinda busy mate..."

"I got a text from big brother..." Looking at Ricky, chewing on his lip, "What the fuck do I say?"

Jumping out of bed, not bothering to hide anything, Ricky ushered Jorge out of the room, panicking Jorge never the best at minding his mouth, "Go make coffee and give me five minutes..."

"Ricky..."

"Jorge," Ricky soothed, "Five minutes."

"Ok..." Wandering into the kitchenette Jorge absentmindedly lined up cups and readied them for the water, taking out his phone and looking at the message again, panic bubbling in his belly.

**_Why the fuck is my brother drunk & crying over the prospect of you not believing him & fucking some guy? WTF is going on????_ **

*

Opening the villa door Ricky frowned, "Jorge?"

Where did you go? She's gone. Coffee is getting cold.

Hey! Where are you?

Which bar?

Helloooooo remember me? The guy who you interrupted this morning? Get your arse back here!

Ok. Worried now. Where the fuck are you?

**At the airport. I've paid the bill. You are all paid up til the end of the week as planned.**

Cursing as Jorge's phone rang and rang and rang Ricky put his phone down on the unit, shaking his head, wondering just how bad things were about to get.

*

"Morning," Flopping into a chair, head bouncing, eyes shut, Alex groaned.

Pushing his coffee cup across the table Tito smirked, "Afternoon..."

"What time is it?" Taking a sip of coffee, face wrinkling at the taste, Alex growled when Marc slapped him on the back of the head, noisily clattering into the chair next to him.

"It's time you told us what the fuck is going on?" Putting a bowl of cereal in front of Alex, some sort of instinctive brotherly need to feed his brother in him, Marc shrugged at Alex's confused look, "Why the fuck did Jorge potentially fucking some guy make you get hammered drunk and cry?"

"You told him?" Alex's voice was practically a whisper as he looked at Tito, face a picture of betrayal, " _Tito?_ "

Looking across the table, two pissed off faces looking back at him, Tito shrugged, trying not to feel guilty about either, "I didn't tell him anything. You got drunk and started ranting."

"Ok," Voice firmer, giving Tito a look that said they'd be having words later, Marc stared at Alex, "What the fuck is going on?" Looking up and over Alex's shoulder Marc shook his head, "And why the fuck is Lorenzo here?"

"WHAT?" Almost falling off his chair Alex, eyes wide and face chalk white, turned around, swearing under his breath when Jorge spotted him, the older man's stride stuttering before he took a breath, Alex's breathing getting quicker as Jorge got closer, stopping just short of the table, awkward smile on his face.

"Hi."

"Hi..." Aware that Marc was looking back and forth between them, like a confused goldfish at Wimbledon, Alex smiled softly, his stomach flipping back and forth.

Coughing awkwardly Jorge shrugged, "I... erm... wondered if I could have a word?"

"Sure," Standing up so quickly his chair clattered over, Alex blushed bright red as he picked it up, Jorge smiling kindly, Tito trying not to laugh and Marc just looked confused, "Come in..."

Watching his brother and Lorenzo walk into the villa Marc turned to Tito, eyebrow raised, "So... Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"


	7. Drink?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one to get the rhythm going again.

"So..." Closing the door behind him Alex chewed on his lip, nerves getting the better of him and making his voice squeaky.

Jorge smiled gently, feeling a bit sorry for Alex, the younger one clearly getting toward the terrified end of nervous, "So... I got a couple of interesting texts last night."

"Oh shit..." Alex looked at the floor, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood.

"I got a couple from you," Jorge leant against the table, trying not to cross his arms or seem defensive, Ricky's voicemail telling him to stay calm and not fuck it up ringing in his ears, "And then I got one from your brother..."

"Fuck..."

"He wanted to know why you'd got drunk and cried yourself to sleep over me..." Jorge tilted his head, smile soft, "I'd quite like to know that myself..."

"I can't believe he text you," Alex shook his head, red flush of mortification in his cheeks, "I'm so sorry."

"Tell me what happened Alex, please..."

"I thought..." Biting his lip Alex sighed hard, "I thought it was about Marc. You mentioned him and I was already nervous and I just freaked out and I couldn't see anything else other than that..."

"Why?" Jorge probed, wishing Alex would stop being so nervous, "Why would you think that after what happened between us?"

"I don't know," Voice cracking Alex shrugged, eyes still trained on the floor, "People do that. They know if they bother me he'll get wound up..."

"Alex," Waiting until Alex looked up Jorge smiled, a softer smile than many would think him capable of, "Nothing that happened between us had anything to do with your brother... Well, apart from me being here, but nothing that happened in the club or in my motorhome or in my house had anything to do with him. At all."

"I'm sorry," Shrugging his shoulder, teeth still chewing on his lip, Alex sighed, "I'm really sorry."

Holding out a hand Jorge smiled, relieved, when Alex took it, letting Jorge pull him closer until Alex was between his legs, him perched on the table, Alex taller but his head dropping onto Jorge's shoulder, "It's ok."

"I'm sorry..."

Arms wrapping around Alex, the feeling of the younger man sagging against him, obviously relieved, making the journey seem like a good idea, erasing the doubts from all the moments he thought about turning his jet back around, Jorge pressed a soft kiss into Alex's hair, voice soft, "I wouldn't do that to you."

Opening the door, not meaning to be quiet or sneaky, Marc froze, the sight of Jorge leaning on the table, Alex leaning on Jorge, foreheads together as they spoke to each other with closed eyes and soft voices, seeming alien to him despite what Tito had just told him. His eyes widened, almost bulged out of his head, when Jorge pecked a kiss to Alex's lips and Alex responded by pressing their mouths together, both of them opening almost instantly, Jorge's tongue visible in tiny glimpses as he licked into Alex's mouth, a soft moan from Alex the thing that made Marc cough, startling the other two, making the three of them blush as he coughed again, awkward, "So?"

"Erm, well, did Tito tell you?" Hands still around and on Jorge, his face showing nerves once again, Alex looked at his brother, a silent plea for him to understand and not freak out.

Marc nodded, his voice missing for some reason, the whole thing _weird_ , not wrong in a homophobic way, but wrong in a that's _Alex and Jorge_ way, "Yep."

"Right. Good. I wanted to tell you, but..." Alex faltered, not wanting to leave Jorge's grasp, but wanting to speak to Marc alone, caught between 93 and 99 and suspecting it wouldn't be the last time, he shrugged, "Should I make us some drinks?"

"Sounds good," Jorge coughed, puffing out his cheeks, awkwardly trying to avoid Marc's glare.

Putting on his best smiley face, unable to miss the smile and happiness in Alex's face when he walked in, Marc opened the door, "You go have a seat. I'll bring drinks..."

"Sure?" Alex queried, the question more than just drink related.

"Of course," Marc smiled, bustling into the kitchen, "Beer Jorge?"

"Please," Shuffling out of the door with Alex, pleased that the bench was free so they could sit together Jorge smiled awkwardly at Tito, wishing he'd booked his own room.


	8. Frustrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. Life has been busy!

Growling, inside his head so that Marc, who'd interrupted them again, wouldn't hear, Jorge stood up, "Excuse me... I'll be back in five..."

"Jorge..." Biting his lip, the taste of blood already there from the sharp nip of Jorge's teeth while Marc was in the bathroom, Alex sighed, "Shit... "

"Something wrong?" Marc sat opposite Alex, painted smile on his face, not sure he'd ever get used to walking in or out of a room and seeing Jorge nipping his brother's lip and hearing Alex make _that_ noise, setting out four drinks, Tito in the bathroom, "Where's he going?"

"Not sure," Alex stammered, nervous, taking a sip of his drink, "Are you ok? You know, with this?"

"Well," Putting down his glass Marc chose his words very carefully, "I'm not going to say it's not weird... Are you happy? With him? Jorge? Do you like him?"

Blushing fiercely red Alex nodded, "Yeah..."

"Then I'm ok," Marc smiled, partly fake, unsure that he'd ever get used to it, but working on the basis that he was happy if Alex was happy, "You going after him?"

Jumping out his seat, running in the direction Jorge had walked off in, Alex yelled over his shoulder, "Thanks bro!"

"No worries..." Taking a sip of his drink Marc sighed, wondering how the fuck he'd ever get used to it.

*

"We don't have any luxury availability I'm afraid," The receptionist frantically typed into the screen, desperate not to earn the reputation as 'the one who turned away Jorge Lorenzo'.

Jorge smiled, tapping his foot impatiently, "I don't care if it's not luxury. I don't even care if it's technically a store room. A bed and a lockable door, that's all I want..."

"We have one room, but..."

"I'll take it."

"It hasn't been upgraded yet, the works are due to start next week..."

"I'll take it."

"It's very outdated, the decor is..."

Jorge grinned, aware it was probably making him look manic, and leant on the counter, looking at the receptionists name badge, "Gabi... All I want is a room that I can sleep it. Does the not-upgraded room have a bed?"

"Well, yes..."

"And can I lock the door?"

"Yes," Looking at Jorge like he had two heads, slightly scared of the grin, and wondering why Alex Marquez was hanging about outside reception looking like he was about to cry, Gabi nodded, "You can."

"Excellent," Taking his wallet from his pocket Jorge pulled out his card, "I'd like to book it please."

"Ok..." Taking the card Gabi punched some details into the computer, wincing at the price flashing on her screen, "If you let me speak to my manager, the pricing hasn't been altered to reflect..."

"It doesn't matter," Jorge grinned again, "Please... Just book it and let me have the key."

"Ok..."

*

Unlocking the door, grimacing slightly at the state of the room, Alex following behind him, Jorge took a breath, turning to Alex, the younger man leant against the closed door, chewing his lip nervously, "Lock the door..."

"You're not leaving?" Alex frowned, "I thought you were leaving... You seemed angry..."

Jorge laughed, the ridiculousness of the whole situation bursting from him in a deep belly laugh, "I flew here from my holiday to see you. Why would I leave?"

"I dunno," Slipping the latch into place Alex shrugged, "You just seemed annoyed..."

"Frustrated..." Jorge corrected, tiltings his head, drawing his eyes up and down Alex, making the younger blush, "Your brother has shit timing..."

"He does..." His shoulders dropping by two inches as the tension and worry left his body Alex quirked a smile at Jorge, "Are you telling me that you've rented the shittiest room in the resort just to have your wicked way with me?"

"Maybe..." Stalking towards him, chucking his phone and wallet onto the small table, Jorge stopped inches from Alex, close enough to feel the other's breath on their face, not quite touching until Alex's hips twitched, his growing hardness rubbing against Jorge's through their shorts, snapping Jorge's patience, him crashing his mouth onto Alex's, hands pinning Alex's hips to the door, Alex's spread legged stance and Jorge on his tiptoes levelling the height difference, pushing their cocks together through cotton as Jorge's teeth nipped Alex's lip and his tongue roamed the younger's mouth leaving a trail of saliva as he pulled away, Alex's involuntary whine of complaint making him smirk, "Bed. Now."

*

Writhing on the bed, sweat glistening on his body, Alex wailed, "Please... Jorge _please_..."

"Soon baby..." Curling his fingers, three of them stretching Alex wide after he'd licked him open, Jorge pinned Alex down with his other arm, Alex wailing louder, his hips canting up from the bed as Jorge stroked over and over the soft bundle of nerves, his cock bobbing around, pre-cum leaking from the tip, Jorge's tongue occasionally swiping it away, making Alex swear more. Feeling Alex clench around him, the sound of his breath hitching ingrained into his brain, Jorge pulled his fingers away, drawing a disgruntled whine from Alex, "Easy..."

"Want you **now**."

Rolling on the condom and coating himself in slick Jorge crawled over Alex, pulling him into a gentle kiss, Alex's cock trapped between their stomachs, leaking stickiness between them. Pushing up onto his elbow Jorge reached down to line himself up, Alex's eyes screwed shut, the initial blunt wideness always seeming too big, too much, threatening to overwhelm him until Jorge's mouth pressed to his again, his tongue licking his way in, Alex's returns sloppy and uncoordinated as he tried to adjust to the burn and the fullness of Jorge pushing into him an inch at a time until he was there, their bodies pressed together, Jorge still, letting Alex get used to the stretch, Jorge pressing little kisses to his mouth.

"Move..."

Moving his hips soft at the grunted order Jorge bit his own lip hard, resisting the temptation to thrust hard, nudging gently against Alex's prostate until the pitch in his whine changed, his body ready for Jorge to loosen his restraint a little, to slide out and thrust back in, bumping his prostate harder, drawing a litany of swearing from him, Alex's fingers digging into Jorge's skin, trying to pull him deeper and harder, his cock leaking more and more between them, until the only sounds in the room were skin slapping against skin and Alex wailing as he tumbled toward the edge, screaming out as Jorge reached between them, tugging loosely on his cock, him spurting cum over their stomachs and Jorge's hand, Jorge swearing at the way Alex's body clenched around him, thrusting into Alex's sensitive hole a few more times before grunting into his climax, filling the condom, collapsing onto Alex's chest, both of them breathing heavy for a few moments until he rolled to the side, Alex wincing as he pulled out.

Rearranging them, after chucking the condom in the bin, Alex's limbs malleable like soft toffee, Jorge tucked Alex's head under his chin, their bodies tacky with sweat, sticking together, "No more arguments..."

"No," Looking up at Jorge, brown eyes wide and curious, smirk cheeky, "Although it was sort of worth it..."

Shaking his head Jorge laughed, "I can think of far better ways to spend cash than on a grubby last-minute room..."

"Jorge..." Biting his lip, Alex laughed at Jorge's growled _'spill it'_ , "Does this mean we're..."

Tone teasing, fingers tickling down Alex's spine, making him giggle, Jorge quirked his eyebrow, "We're?"  

"We're...." Blushing red Alex chuckled, " _Dating_?"

Jorge giggled, more at Alex's tone and expression than the suggestion, planting a kiss on Alex's forehead, "I suppose..."

"You suppose?" Mock outrage on his face Alex shook his head, "Don't sound too enthusiastic!"

Rolling them over, catching Alex by surprise, Jorge pinned Alex's wrists to the bed next to his head, teasing him by almost kissing then pulling away, "I flew here by private jet... I paid full price for _this_ room... And I fucked you so hard you almost forgot your own name... Is that not enthusiasm enough for you?"

"I..." Groaning loud as Jorge took both of his wrists in one hand, the other trailing down his side, palming his arse cheek, fingers delving into his crack with intent, Alex nodded, "I _suppose_..."

Growling into a biting kiss Jorge rolled his eyes, "Cheeky bastard."


	9. Family & Friends

"You ok?" Sitting down on the sun lounger next to Alex's, wary of the people around them (and especially wary of any camera lenses pointed in their direction), Jorge looked over the top of his sunglasses, "Alex?"

"Yeah fine."

"Ok..." Jorge sighed, making his voice low, "What happened to no arguments, lots of talking and happy dating?"

Biting his lip, feeling guilty, Alex smiled, the happiness not quite reaching his eyes, "Everything is fine. Honest."

"Never believe someone who feels the need to use the word honest..." Jorge tiled his head, smiling softly at an unexpected memory, "My Mama used to tell me that...." Shaking his head he fixed Alex with a look, "Spill. Now..."

"Water polo?" Arriving between them, shaking water droplets around like a Labrador that had run through a puddle, Jonathan grinned, all bright white teeth and tanned skin.

"Not right now..." Eyes fixed on Alex, watching the way his jaw tensed when Jonathan came over, Jorge smirked, "We're going for a walk."

"We are?" Alex squawked, feeling like a lanky, ungracious 15-year-old when Jorge hauled him off his lounger by the arm, "Apparently we are...."

Sunglasses firmly in place Jorge led the way, along the tree lined path to the new suite the manager had insisted he have when it became vacant after two nights in the room that had two extra holes in the wall thanks to Alex's _enthusiasm_. After photos of Jorge and Marc apparently holidaying together hit Twitter Jorge panicked, paying for another room, and flew Ricky, Jonathan and the rest of the guys over from Ibiza.

Opening the door with his keycard Alex let out a loud 'oof' as he was instantly thrown against the door, his back feeling bruised as Jorge launched at him, sharp teeth and warm, velvety tongue marauding around his neck, finding the pulse point that made him shiver every time it was found, his hands pressing into Alex's hips, pushing him into the door.

"Jorge," Alex's voice was a pant, "What are you doing?"

Dropping to his knees, yanking Alex's shorts out of the way, grinning at the way the younger man's cock was already rock hard, Jorge flicked out his tongue, lapping up the droplets of pre-come, this never something he had enjoyed before until he met Alex, the way Alex came apart making it one of his favourite things, Jorge looked up, eyes locked together as he teased for a few moments before he shrugged, "Reminding you of something...."

"Hwerffkneqoiwheew....." Slamming his head back against the door as Jorge swallowed him whole Alex's fingers scrabbled at the wood, trying to compose himself, counting to ten in his head, desperately trying to last longer than ten seconds in the hot, wetness of Jorge's mouth bobbing up and down his length, "Fuck... Oh fuck... _fuuuuuck_...."

Standing up, smirking at Alex's wail as his shorts brushed against his spent cock, Jorge licked a tiny drop of come from the corner of his mouth, Jorge sighed, leaning in to nip Alex's bottom lip, "So... Next time you get jealous of anyone, _especially_ one of my friends, remember that... Ok?"

"I wasn't..." Stuttering into silence, Alex blushed bright red, shrugging his shoulders and putting his head onto Jorge's shoulder, hiding his face in his neck, "Sorry..."

*

"It's weird..." Eyes hidden by his sunglasses as he watched Alex and Jorge play water polo with Jorge's friends, Marc shook his head, "How am I supposed to get used to _that_?"

Tito laughed, the tiny touch of Jorge's fingers against the small of Alex's back a tiny, nothing, gesture to the outside world, such an obvious, tender almost, gesture to those who knew, pushing another beer over the table towards Marc, "You'll get used to it."

"How?" Voice almost anguished, a million questions and worries flooding his mind, Marc sighed, "It's just.... _weird_..."

Tito shrugged, seemingly never thrown by anything, "It's always weird when one of us meets someone new. Remember how awkward it was the first few times Andrea came anywhere with us?"

"True... She's not Lorenzo though..." Taking a huge swig of beer Marc shook his head, "I don't trust him."

"Not at all?"

"On track, yes," Marc shook his head, "But not with Alex..."

Tilting his head, always the voice of reason, Tito took a slow drink of his own beer, "He did fly here, by private jet, pretty much because Alex was upset. That's got to mean something?"

"It does..." Marc put his head down on the table, the plastic surface cool against his forehead, "He's fucked up though, everyone knows that... He's destroyed every relationship he's ever had... Alex loves him... He's going to get his heart broken. I just know it."

"Well," Tito smiled kindly, "If he does then we'll help him through it..."

"But what..."

"Marc," Patient, but firm, Tito patted Marc's shoulder, "You can't control who Alex falls in love with any more than Alex can... We just have to support him."

"Even if he's going to get hurt?"

"If we stopped the people we loved from getting hurt then none of us would let anyone ride a bike, would we?"

*

"Hey," Marc smiled, sliding into the chair next to Alex, "I need you to rescue me...."

Alex laughed, waving at the determined looking blond at the end of the bar, "She's kinda cute..."

"I bought her one drink and I already know that she wants four children, two cats and a house with a kitchen big enough for a dining table...." Marc bit his lip, "I'm scared..."

Chuckling hard Alex shrugged, "Want me to get Jorge to sit on your knee?"

"Fuck off," Marc wiped his chin, Alex's suggestion making him spill his beer, "I can't believe you are fucking Lorenzo.... Of _all_ people...."

Blushing slightly Alex coughed, "I'm not fucking him exactly..."

"ALEX!!!" Both of them going bright red as Marc's shriek made a few heads turn, Marc shook his head, "Never, ever, _ever_ share any details like that ever again!"

"Sorry," Laughing, not looking at all sorry, Alex shrugged, "You don't mind?"

"Not my place to mind," Marc smiled softly, "Just be careful. Jorge is...."

Alex nodded, "I know... It's worth the risk."

"Ok," Marc smiled, "And if you want to talk, no details, then you know. I'm here."

Smiling as Jorge came back to the table, sitting on the seat next to Alex, fingers touching briefly, Alex nodded at Marc, "I know. Thanks."


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. Real life got in the way. Short burst to get us back underway.

The last precious few days of the holiday flew past in a whirl of sun, sea, and for Jorge and Alex, sex. Lots of sex. Sex that was going to cost him quite considerably on check out given they'd managed to break the shower screen and one slat of the headboard along with the two holes in the wall.

Lying on his back, naked, the cool air of the fan blowing over him, Jorge sighed, wishing the last day would go as slow as possible, not wanting the holiday to end, letting his eyes flutter shut as straddled over him, the hardness of the younger man's cock against his skin making him feel _something_ in his belly,  loving the way that the want in Alex's eyes made him feel, like he could do or achieve _anything_ , "Fuck...."

"Not yet...." Alex snickered softly, letting his lips brushing against Jorge's skin, teeth grazing the curve of where neck and shoulder met, murmuring words against the skin, his fingers dancing over the goosebumped skin of the older man's side, " I wish we didn't have to leave.... I wish we could just stay here forever...."

Eyes shut, back arching as Alex's teeth pressed harder into his skin, his mouth sucking a red mark that would linger under his collar for days, giving Jorge the edge of pain that he loved, branding him in the way Jorge had spend days branding Alex's skin, the possessiveness stoking a fire in each of their bellies, telling a story their mouths didn't dare utter yet, Jorge giggled, "Think that might give the game away...."

"Probably," Sliding a hand between them, inquisitive, almost ticklish, fingertips running over Jorge's pelvis before wrapping around his cock, making him curse, Alex nipped harder against the skin before soothing it with his warm tongue, his voice cheeky and lusty, "It'd be worth it though...."

Jorge sighed softly, Alex's loose fist around his cock just enough to keep him hovering nicely, the bubble building in his balls as Alex's cock slipped and slid against his skin, one hand finding its way into Alex's hair as the devilish mouth moved down, tongue finding, and lapping at, his nipple, neither of them in a rush to hit the edge, just enjoying and making the most of their uninterrupted time before reality had to be faced, "Yeah.... I _suppose_..."

*

"Fucking hell.... _Alex_...."

Pushing his head back into the pillow, taking a deep, but shaky, breath, Jorge bit his lip, trying to persuade his body to wait, to give him time, wanting to savour the image in front of him before he finally exploded. Eyes raking over Alex, on his knees, straddling Jorge, his face a picture of lusty concentration as he pushed himself onto Jorge, his body screaming yes and no at the same time as Jorge's head, seeming huge against his tight ring, only briefly opened by his own fingers, pushed in, stretching him wider than he thought he could cope with. Watching as Alex bit his lip, waiting for the moment where his mind switched focus, choosing to ignore the stinging burn and focussed instead of the glorious feeling of Jorge filling him up, that exact moment visible on his face and in his eyes, it doing something to Jorge, giving him a powerful, almost primal urge to flick his hips, bury himself deeper and digging his fingers into Alex's hips as he forced himself to wait. Waiting, watching, for the way Alex's face changed from deep concentration, to relaxed beauty as he was finally able to let himself go, rocking back and forth, up and down, on Jorge's cock, taking him fully, swearing loud as he hit his prostate, his cock bobbing up and down, leaving droplets of pre-come on Jorge's stomach, until Alex's back stiffened, his teeth pressed harder into his lip, and he screamed Jorge's name in _that_ way as Jorge's fingers found his cock, pulling him over the edge, Jorge swearing loudly as Alex's muscles clamping around him dragged him over, Alex collapsing down onto his chest, two sweat-sticky bodies wrapped together, the air full of gaspy breathing and the smell of sex.

*

Chucking the washcloth in the general direction of the shower Jorge took a second to look at Alex, his sun kissed body glowing against the white sheets, hair askew, little red and purple marks and scratches on his neck and torso, their colouring dating them, his pupils wide and blown as he laid on his back, still trying to catch his breath, before catching Jorge watching, his cheeks blushing pink, Jorge laughing as he got into bed, stealing another kiss, Alex curling around him, Jorge freezing at the words sleep-mumbled against his skin, closing his eyes, trying not to say them back, not sure why, letting Alex drift off in his arms, wishing they didn't have to go home.


	11. Busy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in this one! Hopefully we're on a roll again now!

**X** Urgh. I need to persuade my brother to buy a jet like you. 5 hour delay on a 1 hour flight...

 **Jorja** Should have accepted my offer... I'm back in Barcelona already, stress and trouble free ;)

 **X** Your sympathy is overwhelming...

 **Jorja**                       Oops. I thought about you on the flight actually. Wondered if there was enough space in the bathroom ;)

 **X** Don't!

 **Jorja**                       You like being backed against the wall, my fingers in your hair, so there probably would be enough room...

 **X**                              I'm in the Departure Lounge!!!!!

 **Jorja**                       Everyone would know though, even if they didn't hear. Getting back to your seat your face would be all pink... And you'd be constantly wiping it, making sure there was no cum left...

 **X**                              STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!

 **Jorja**                       We'll have to fly somewhere sometime. Just us. Then you can blow me on my chair. The staff are very discrete ;)

 **X**                              You fucking bastard! Do you know how difficult it is to walk to the bathroom with a hard-on?!?!?!

 **Jorja**                       I have to go into my meeting now. Think about me when you wank ;)

 **X**                              _Img1_ Enjoy the view ;)

 **Jorja**                       Fucker...

*

 **X**                              Good news & bad news... Good news is I'm home FINALLY! Bad news is that my day off is no longer my day off :( Sorry.

 **Jorja** Just home now? How long was the delay? Someone got you working?

 **X**                              EIGHT FUCKING HOURS! Could have driven home in that time! Yeah, I'm filming a thing for EG. Honda had them change the date as they need him for something else.

 **Jorja**                       Ouch. Feel a bit bad for picking on you now :-/ Ah that's shit, but happens. I've got a day off next week, I think it's Wednesday if you've got any time?

 **X**                              So you should, bastard ;) Yeah, I'll make time. What you up to now? x

 **Jorja**                       Just out the shower & heading to bed. You?

 **X** Heading for the shower and then bed.

 **Jorja** Call me when you are out the shower. You can tell me more about your bathroom trip ;)

*

"Are we boring you?" Marc jibed when Alex yawned for the third time.

Blushing bright red, giving his brother a death stare, Alex shook his head, "Sorry. Couldn't sleep very well last night."

"I bet," Marc smirked, before remembering that he was teasing his brother about _Lorenzo_ and finding it weird again.

"Something I should know?" Roser frowned, looking back and forth between the two, catching the panicked, warning, look Alex gave his elder brother, "You know I always find out in the end..."

Shaking his head, sitting straighter in his chair, trying to pretend he hadn't been on the phone until 3am when Jorge laughed kindly at his yawns and told him to go to sleep, Alex shrugged, "Nothing to know."

"Really?" Roser raised an eyebrow, Alex avoiding her glare telling her something was going on, "Marc?"

Shaking his head Marc smiled, feeling a little pang of guilt at teasing Alex quite so much, "No, nothing."

"Nothing going on," Clipping them both round the back of the head as she got up, ignoring the protesting yelp, Roser sighed, "That'd be a first with you two."

*

 **Jorja**                       What route are you taking to Indy? My meeting has been moved from Barca to Milan...

 **X**                              El Prat - Dusseldorf - Chicago - Indy.

 **Jorja**                       That's a fucking weird way to go?! Why?

 **X**                              It's the way Lufthansa go.

 **Jorja**                       Why not go with someone else? At least their bus seats are comfortable!

 **X**                              I'm in Moto3. I go economy.

 **Jorja**                       Ah. Now I feel a bit bad. I'll try and change this meeting, but it's not looking good.

 **X** So you should ;) Ok. I understand if you can't. We'll make time in Indy.

*

"How come," Alex sighed, slumping on to the sofa, Marc and Tito already chilling in the hotel, "...that in a country where everyone is so fucking friendly the immigration people are so fucking scary?"

Tito laughed, "They hold you up?"

"You'd think my reason to visit was to sacrifice a newborn baby..." Alex puffed out his cheeks, "Where's Papa?"

"On the phone to Mama," Marc bit his lip, Tito giving him _the look_ , "Erm, I know that, well, erm, you and... erm Jorge, like haven't had a chance to... catch up, properly, since Tarifa, so erm, if you want to go out any time and, erm, see him, and you need cover just say."

"Thanks," Unable to stop himself blushing Alex smiled, "I appreciate that. He's not here yet, he's got a Hawkers thing in LA first. But thanks.

"No worries," Marc shrugged, "Everything going well? With, erm, you two?"

"Yeah, good thanks," Alex smiled, "I know it's...weird... for you so I appreciate it."

*

Sitting on the flight Jorge flicked through the entertainment system, ignoring Albert's frown, knowing he needed to keep his mind busy. Despite the amount of hours he spent on planes Jorge hated flying. Not like Marquez, not in a fear kind of way, but he detested being stuck in his seat in the big metal box, nowhere to go for hours on end because he tended to think.

The first few days after Tarifa were ok, he was busy and Alex was on hand with a cheeky text every few hours, but then reality set in and Jorge and reality were never the best of friends. The reality of Jorge's relationship with Ricky was that, ultimately, Jorge wasn't enough, Ricky needed more. Now, stuck in his seat, only films he'd already seen, some several times, on the entertainment system he couldn't stop his mind from wandering, wondering what his reality with Alex was going to be.

His logical brain told him that they had a lot in common. The age difference might be nine years, but the weird world of racing meant that young guys grew up and matured quick, they had too, but also meant that beyond a certain point they didn't have to grow up like people in the real world. Direct Debits didn't have to be juggled and if they wanted to eat take out every night for a week then they didn't have to turn the heating off to afford it. It was a strange, protective bubble, where the rules of normal life didn't really apply. For that reason Alex didn't seem nine years younger than him. They had common interests, they understood the weird world the other occupied and they _worked_.

Outside of the bubble life was different and Jorge always paid attention to it, possibly too much. Trying to be normal when you are 27, have two multi-million pound homes and a garage full of dream cars is a futile effort, but Jorge had an internal need to try and do so. Alex was normal, he had a grounding and family support that Jorge could only dream of. They'd never be equals in that respect and their careers were at very different points, but did that mean they couldn't work?...

"Jorge..." Albert nudged him in the ribs, "You have to fasten your seatbelt for landing."

Nodding at his agent, Jorge smiled, knowing Albert's raised eyebrow meant he could see right through him, "Yeah. Sorry."

*

 **Jorja**                       I've just spotted Santi Hernandez. We're in the same hotel... Please tell me your team put you in the same hotel as your brother?

 **X** Team didn't, but Marc did. I'm sharing with him.

 **Jorja**                       Ok. This is rude. And a bit grubby. And possibly unfair, but I have 90 minutes before I have to meet some sponsors... It might be the only free time I have this weekend. I'm in 743...

 **X**                             Unlock the door...

*

"I'm _really_ sorry..." Pulling on his jeans Jorge looked at Alex, still catching his breath on the bed, "I feel guilty leaving like this."

Swinging his legs out of the bed, moving slightly gingerly, Alex pressed their mouths together, soft, not leading, reassuring, "Go. I'll let myself out in five once there's not so many people around."

"It won't always be like this.."

Nodding, trying not to wince at the crusts forming on his scratched back, Alex smiled, "Stop worrying. It's all good. Go..."

"Ok. I'll text you later," Giving Alex another light kiss, looking back as he opened the door, catching glimpse of Alex bending to pick up his jeans, the image imprinting on his brain, Jorge sighed and ran down the corridor, already ten minutes late.

*

"What the fuck happened to you?" Marc's eyes were on stalks as Alex came out the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, "Did you fight with a cat?"

Blushing hard as he dug about his suitcase for a clean pair of boxers, Alex shook his head, "Fuck off."

"Seriously," Frowning, slight hint of concern in his voice, Marc counted the marks on Alex's back, "You can't get... _injuries_... like that in race week Alex. That's going to be as nippy as fuck at the weekend."

Laughing softly Alex sighed, "You can ride with your leg mostly still broken, but I can't have a few scratches? Really?"

"It's not a few..."

Closing his eyes, pulling on the boxers under the towel, Alex sighed, "It was........ _intense_..... because we haven't seen each other and we didn't have much time.... We.... It.... Sometimes it's gentle and, erm, loving.... And sometimes... It's like this..."

"Right," Marc squirmed, the conversation beyond awkward, "As long as you are ok, and... enjoying it, that's all that matters."

Blushing redder than ever Alex flicked his middle finger when Marc roared with laughter.

*

 **Jorja** Hey. Sorry I didn't text earlier. Got caught up, again. I think I might have some time on Saturday after quali. You ok? Sorry if I was a bit rough.

 **X** It's alright, I'm been watching a film with Marc and Tito. I'll find out from Emilio tomorrow what my plans are. I'm fine. It was fine.

 **X**                              I mean it was fine as in it wasn't too rough. It was more than fine.

 **Jorja** Nice save... ;) It was more than fine for me too.

*

 **Jorja**                       Post quali free time is cancelled. Sorry.

 **X**                              No worries.

 **Jorja**                       When do you leave for Argentina?

 **X**                              Monday morning on the MotoGP flight. You?

 **Jorja**                       I go to NY after the race. We're all in the same place in Argentina so I'll be there Tuesday. Maybe we can catch up then?

 **X**                              Sounds like a plan. Ride safe x

 **Jorja**                       You too x

Throwing his phone onto the bedside cabinet, Jorge sighed, picking up his data sheets, determined to get from Saturday until Tuesday without falling into the pattern of doubt that tended to haunt him so frequently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse the change of schedule for Argentina/Brno. There's no reason for this other than me being an idiot :D


	12. Words

"Hey..." Taking a deep breath Alex smiled, slightly red cheeked, at Marc, "Favour?"

Looking up, Alex hanging round the door like a lanky monkey hanging from a tree, "What?"

"Cover for me..."

Awkward, unwanted images flashing in his brain thanks to Tito finding his weirdness about Alex and Jorge highly amusing, Marc nodded, "Sure. No problem."

"Thanks..." Turning away quickly Alex sighed and turned back, "Marc, you are... ok with this? Me and... you know..."

"Of course," Answering too quick, concern flashing over his brother's face, Marc shrugged, "Look, it's a bit weird, but I'm not _not ok_..."

"Cool," Alex smiled, before giving Marc a cheeky grin, "Second favour?"

Rolling his eyes, good heartedly, Marc sighed dramatically, "What now?"

"Can I borrow your black helmet? The plain one?"

*

"Looking for something?" Holding out the helmet Marc chuckled.

Alex grinned, relieved, momentarily worried he'd have to wear something not at all incognito, "Thank fuck for that."

"When you back?" Marc hopped up onto the countertop, unusually tidy for the Marquez garage, Alex's ongoing battles with Jack Miller making Roser's cleaning frenzies even more frequent than normal, "Tomorrow?"

Fixing his leather jacket, Alex smiled, hint of red blush on his cheeks, "Next day."

"Oooooohhh," Marc teased, before frowning, "Well make sure you are careful...."

Flicking his middle finger at his brother as he secured his backpack, pulling on the helmet at the sound of a bike pulling up outside the garage, Alex shook his head, "Fuck off..."

*

Marc                     What has my life become? My brother has just been collected by Jorge Lorenzo on a motorbike to spend two nights at his house fucking....

Tito                        WHAT?? Are they insane?! Hector will freak! Are your Mama and Papa ok? Emilio?

Marc                     They are both wearing just black. Jorge didn't take his helmet off.... Calm down Tito.

Tito                        Jesus Christ Marc!!! You almost gave Tito heart failure!!

Marc                     Oops! Sorry :)

*

"That was kind of fun..." Smirking, in a _'can't believe we got away with that'_ way, Jorge let his eyes trail over Alex, the younger fixing his ruffled hair after pulling off his helmet as they pulled into Jorge's drive, the tall gates closing behind them.

Alex laughed, "It was a bit... Can't quite believe no-one recognised you!"

"I can't believe you got out of your house and through Cervera unrecognised," Stepping toward Alex, the taller man leaning against the bike, Jorge smiled, "Hello by the way..."

Alex bit his lip, revelling in the way Jorge's eyes were locked on him, almost three whole weeks having passed without either of them having any spare time, "Hey..."

"Hey..." Pulling his bottom lip through his teeth Jorge let out a contented sigh before leaning up, pressing their mouths together, the kiss deep and warm, tongues tangling in a renewed battle, Jorge's hands moving to rest on Alex's chest, before pulling away, nipping Alex's lip, "Come on, let's get inside..."

Feeling brave and cheeky, the ride down, clinging to Jorge tighter than necessary, giving him a buzz as they escaped any recognition, Alex grinned, giving Jorge a salacious wink, "That's usually my line..."

*

"Fucking hell...." Dropping onto the bed, Alex next to him gasping for breath, Jorge pulled off the condom and chucked it in the bed, sweat making him stick to the sheet, "You ok?"

Curling into Jorge's side, not caring about the stickiness on his stomach, Alex nodded, "Uh huh..."

"Snuggly..." Pressing a kiss to Alex's head Jorge sighed, "We should get some food..."

Shaking his head Alex snuggled in tighter, "Not yet..."

"You sure you are ok?"

Alex nodded, biting his lip, looking coy as he looked up, "I missed you..."

"I missed you too..." Leaning in to share another kiss, this time soft and gentle, Jorge closed his eyes, relaxing into Alex's hug.

"Jorge..." Alex chewed on his lip, his voice small, almost smothered by Jorge's skin as he pressed his face into the side of the older man's neck, "If... Well... Can I say something? Will it be weird? Or ruin things?"

"No," Words soft, fingers carding through Alex's hair, relaxing him, Jorge pressed a kiss onto Alex's forehead, "You can't ruin things..."

"Promise?"

"I promise..."

Alex took a deep breath, letting out a slow sigh, "I think.... Maybe... I mean I've never... Before... So I don't really know... But I think... Well..."

"Alex?" Two fingers under Alex's chin, pulling him up until they were level, pausing until Alex's eyes fluttered open, his cheeks pink and nerves clear, Jorge smiled, soft and happy, "I love you too..."

Leaning in, grin on his face wide, Alex sighed into the soft, languid, kiss; feeling happy, supported and loved, before pressing his forehead to Jorge's, "I love you."

*

Sitting in the kitchen, clad only in boxer shorts, Alex giggled as Jorge put a bowl of pasta down in front of him, "I'm rather getting a de ja vu moment here..."

"Well your shoes are hidden so no running away this time..." Jorge winked as he grated some cheese on top of his dish.

Blushing bright red Alex cringed, "Don't..."

"It's fine now..." Leaning over to give him a peck on the lips Jorge frowned, Alex's face unreadable, "What?"

Alex shrugged, then laughed, knowing he was shit at hiding his emotions, "It's just... nice..."

"Nice?" Jorge shook his head and sighed dramatically, "I picked you up on my bike, then brought you back here, took you apart, told you I loved you and made you pasta and you says it's _nice_..."

Shaking his head Alex scoffed, taking a sip of wine, "Coming from them man whose response to being asked out properly was _'I suppose'_..."

"Fair point," Jorge laughed, before putting his glass down, "You're happy though? With... everything..."

Alex nodded, smile wide and genuine, "Yeah. I'm very happy... The food is good and the sex is even better, what's not to be happy about..."

"So, you think you'll keep me for a bit then?" Taking a forkful of pasta Jorge smiled at Alex's chuckle.

"Yeah... I guess I'll keep you around for a while...."


	13. Caught

"What do you want to do today?" Lying in bed, Alex's head on his stomach, Jorge tried not to think about the fact that they had one more day and night before the short period of uninterrupted bliss was over; ruffling Alex's hair with a laugh when Alex simply smirked, "Other than _that_..."

"By my calculation..." Moving until he was making Jorge hiss by straddling over him, bringing their naked skin together, cocks quickly gaining interest, Alex grinned, "I believe we have three rooms in which we haven't... Yet..."

"I'm going to need a holiday to recover from you," Hands finding their way to Alex's hips, fingers instinctively in the places that already had tiny figertip shaped bruises, Jorge groaned as Alex rocked against him, their cocks between their bodies, friction glorious and awakening, "You are relentless..."

"Push for the win you said..." Leaning down, hands either side of Jorge's head, Alex bent his head down, nipping a sharp line across Jorge's collarbone, newfound confidence from experience and the late night chat about likes and dislikes, leaving a trail of angry, red marks that he half soothed with a wet, soft tongue.

"I know what I said," Growling as Alex sucked a darkening mark into his skin, catching the point just below collar level that made Jorge swear and his skin goosebump, Jorge used his superior strength to push Alex aside, grabbing his hand as he jumped off the bed, ignoring Alex's hooting laughter and 'needy' comment, "Cinema room time....."

*

Sat round the table, Jorge's house-proudness regarding not eating food on the sofas amusing given the bodily fluids that had been shared, and spilt, on them, Alex peeled the lid from his container,  laughing, "If my Mama ever found out we'd had macaroni cheese delivered I think she'd combust..."

"Cheese sauce is a tricky bastard," Jorge smiled, licking fennel sauce from his fingers, making more of a show of it when Alex noticed, and blushed, "Besides, if we'd taken time out to eat we'd not have had time to have a workout after the cinema..."

Almost choking on a piece of pasta, the workout having ending in the two of them rolling around the floor in Jorge's home gym, their knees a mix of bruises and burns from the frantic session, Alex flushed red, Jorge having tugged on his hair, making him lift his head and watch them in the mirrored wall, "You are terrible."

"You love it..."

"I do," Alex smirked as Jorge blushed red, before they both panicked as the front door opened, then banged shut, "Who? What...."

Frozen, fork in midair, sea bass slipping off and back onto the plate, Jorge's jaw dropped as his a figure wandered in, calling out casual and friendly, him having totally forgotten about her routine to check on the house when he was in Switzerland and visiting when he was there, glad as her eyes almost popped out of her head as she came to a stunned standstill at the doorway that they'd both pulled on boxers, his voice tiny and croaky, "Laura...."

*

"It's fine..." Jorge pulled on his jeans, voice pitchy, almost squeaky, "It's fine. She won't say anything. It's fine."

Leaning against the drawers, starting to panic because of Jorge's wide eyed look, Alex shrugged, "If it's fine why are you pacing about like we've been caught out by a reporter?"

"I'm not..." Jorge stopped, trying to regain some semblance of composure, "I just... If she slips to my father..."

"Will she?" Catching Jorge's arm, pulling him toward him, a complete reverse of their positions in Tarifa, this time Alex's arms and legs around Jorge, calming him like a weighty security blanket, "I mean, do you trust her?"

"I do trust her..." Jorge trailed off, "My father is just... He has a way of getting things out of people..."

"She's your sister, she won't land you in it, surely?" Alex raised an eyebrow, the idea of not being able to have 100% trust in a sibling alien to him.

"No," Jorge shook his head, starting to relax, "No, she won't."

*

"Little Alex Marquez?" Amused grin on her face, eyebrow raised, Laura chuckled at Jorge's frown, wagging a finger, "Oh no, you don't get to pull the serious face... This is tease worthy!"

Jorge frowned, pressing buttons on the coffee machine, "Please don't..."

"And those marks on him.... _Jorge_.... You dirty devil!"

"Laura..." Jorge bit his lip as Alex came into the kitchen, the taller man smiling, despite his pink cheeks, "This is my sister Laura... Laura, Alex..."

"Lovely to meet you Alex..." Laura grinned, enjoying teasing her brother, "I hope my brother has been _looking after_ you well..."

Flushing bright red at the insinuation behind Laura's words Alex nodded, words suddenly difficult, "Yeah. Good. I mean he's been good. To me..."

"I'm _sure_ he has..."

" **Laura**..." Jorge warned, putting a cup of coffee in front of her, the china clattering off the marble work surface, his eyes dark, "Don't you have to be getting back to work?"

"Oh no," Laura grinned, "I've got the afternoon off..."

*

Flopping down onto the sofa with a sigh Jorge put his head onto Alex's stomach, "I thought she was never going to leave!"

"I was beginning to wonder..." Alex laughed, "She's nice though."

"No, she's not," Jorge pouted, "She's evil."

"The baby photos weren't _that_ bad..." Alex giggled, shrieking when Jorge jabbed him in the ribs, the most ticklish spot on his body, "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine..." Jorge shrugged, "It was just..... weird..."

"What's she like? As a sister?" Stroking his fingers through Jorge's hair.

"Good..." Jorge smiled, "We were close when we were little... She's always been really supportive, never minded when racing took up so much time or money..."

*

"Where do you see yourself in ten years time?"

Jorge shrugged, taking a swig of beer, "Dunno... Retired..."

"Not fancying staying on older than Vale?"

"God no," Jorge laughed, "I'd be in too many broken pieces if I did that... I'll be long retired by then."

"Management?" Alex stole a sip of Jorge's beer, rolling his eyes at Jorge's grimace at bottle sharing, "I've had my tongue in worse places..."

"True," Jorge giggled, the high pitched laugh only people he trusted heard, "I don't know about management... Maybe the riding school, but I might just leave that to my Dad."

"What about off track?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Shrugging, trying to keep his voice casual, Alex took another drink, "Marriage, kids, houses? That kind of thing..."

"Oh..." Jorge shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual, "Not sure. It depends I suppose."

"On?"

"Attitudes. You know, if things have changed..."

"You mean if there are less bigots?"

"Yeah," Jorge looked up, Alex's face neutral and unreadable, "What about you?"

"Hopefully thinking about retirement."

"In ten years," Jorge laughed, "You'll be where I am now... That's weird."

"Is it?" Alex frowned.

"A little..." Jorge smiled, trying not to be defensive, or offensive, "Just because you don't seem younger than me, that's all."

"I suppose..." Snuggling down, turning the volume up on the tv, Alex smiled, Jorge's smiled in return equally forced, both of their minds wandering, wondering if those future visions included the other.


	14. Help me...

**Cervera - 16th November 2014**

"You ok?"

Looking up at Marc, smile on his face genuine, albeit alcohol fuelled, Alex nodded, "Yep. Let's do this."

"Let's bring Cervera dooooowwwwnnnn!!" Nudging Alex, the teasing over that phrasing relentless, Marc grinned, himself having partaken in a few drinks.

"Fuck off..."

*

**Lugano - 17th September 2014**

Taking a large gulp of wine Jorge picked up his phone, tears and snot running down his face, voice wrecked from too much alcohol and smoking, "Please don't hate me..."

*

**Cervera - 17th September 2014**

Jorja                             I'm sorry. I'm a coward for doing it like this I know, but it has to be done. We can't be together anymore. I'm sorry. Good luck with the rest of the season. You are better than Miller, you can do this.

X                              What?? What's going on? What have I done? What has changed since the weekend?

X                              Talk to me. Please. What happened?

X                              Jorge PLEASE! Talk to me.... Help me understand...

*

**Lugano - 18th September 2014**

Looking at his phone, 22 missed calls and 14 texts, Jorge slumped down onto the floor, chucking the phone aside, the relentless drizzle streaming down the glass doors like a mirror of his face and feelings.

*

**Aragon - 14th September 2014**

"Where is he?"

Looking up, confused, Ricky frowned, "He's not staying in the motorhome, I thought you'd have known that?"

"Where is he staying?" Aware his barky tone was rude Alex couldn't help himself, needing to turn the constant stream of tears into something else, anger seeming the best option "Where is he?"

Putting down his cup Ricky sighed, "What the fuck has he done?"

*

**Cervera - 17th November 2014**

Letting his answering machine click on, the never ending stream of messages you got as a world champion surprising him, everyone around him amused at the apparent amnesia of Marc's title wins, Alex stopped, his heart beginning to race, stomach flipping at the sound of _that_ voice, it's owner having successfully avoiding him (including taking a ridiculous travel route to Australia that enraged Yamaha) for two whole months.

"Well done Alex. You deserved that."

*

**Barcelona - 31st December 2014**

Using his key for the first time in months, Jorge having totally isolated himself after splitting from Alex, Ricky pushed open the door, "Jorge?"

Wrinkling his nose, the smell of sickly alcohol, vomit and cigarette smoke permeating the air, he closed the door behind him and stepped over the rubbish in the hallway, wandering into the lounge, "Jorge?"

"What'sallthenoise?"

Jumping as a figure moved, being able to see his face when he looked over the top of the sofa not making him any more identifiable, Ricky glared, unfriendly and harsh, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Deano..." Holding out a wobbly hand briefly the guy jumped up suddenly, startling Ricky, pushing past on his way to throw up, making Ricky wince as he used the pool as a substitute for a bin.

Throwing a discarded jacket at him Ricky fumed, "Fuck off. Now!"

Looking around the room, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes as more and more mess seemed to appear before him; the TV was cracked, three... no, _four_ , of the giant window panes were shattered, the sofa sporting numerous burn marks and a glance back at the pool explained where any missing furniture was, Ricky cursed silently before heading for the stairs, "Jorge!"

Kicking out three more people asleep on the mezzanine floor, broken glass constantly crunching under his feet, Ricky pinched his nose, the stench of piss and puke burning his nostrils. Taking the last set of stairs two at a time, Jorge's room seemingly empty, Ricky braced himself as he put his hand on the outside door, praying that outside he'd find a hung-over Jorge enjoying a jacuzzi - knowing what he was likely to find was worse than he'd already encountered.

"Oh Jorge..." Stepping out onto the deck Ricky almost vomited on the spot at the smell, taking a moment to regain his composure, before walking over to sit down next to Jorge, pulling off his hoodie to wrap it around Jorge's shoulders, the older man sitting on the ground in his boxers and a soaked t-shirt surrounded by empty bottles of beer and champagne, takeaway wrappers and other debris Ricky didn't even want to look at, "Are you hurt?.... Jorge.... Are you hurt?

"Ricky..." Voice soft, happy, but not right, Jorge smiled, his eyes rimmed red and surrounded by dark circles, "Did you come to my party?"

"No. No, I didn't come to your party."

"I wish you would," Smiling at Ricky, but letting out a sad sigh at the same time, Jorge shrugged his shoulders, "Lots of people come to my party, but you don't. Not anymore. I miss that. You, I mean. I miss you. And Alex. I really miss Alex."

Swallowing hard, the words, despite being alcohol fuelled, hitting him hard in the stomach, the knowledge that his friend had once again hit rock bottom, this time due to his own paranoia, making tears prickle his eyes, "You are soaked and you'll get ill if you sit out here..."

"How did I get soaked?" Looking at his shirt, fingers touching it before a surprising realisation of _I'm all wet_ crossed his face, then looking up at Ricky with a frown, "Why am I soaking?"

"I don't know," Coughing through a sob Ricky stood up, holding out his hand to Jorge, "Come on, let's go and get you dried off."

"Ok," Letting Ricky pull him up Jorge briefly glanced over the glass edge, able to see Deano staggering towards the gate, "Who is that? Why is he here?"

"I don't know," Ricky shrugged, "I think he was at your party."

"Oh," Stepping inside the room, the frown on his face making his brow furrow deep, Jorge shook his head, "Why do I never know any of them at my party? I used to know them. I used to know you. And Alex. And Hector. And Jonathan. And other Jorge."

Sadness stabbing at his gut Ricky handed Jorge a towel, not clean, no washing apparently having been done for weeks, but passable, "You did."

Pulling the soaked t-shirt over his head, poking in confusion at a few bruises on his body, confirming that they hurt, Jorge looked up at Ricky, green eyes glassy and full of tears, "Why do you never come here anymore?"

"Because you kicked me out," Adjusting the heating, needing to keep his back to Jorge, the bites and bruises on his body obviously caused by another person, probably another _man_ , and just too much to take knowing the self loathing that would consume Jorge when he finally sorted his head out, "Dry off. You'll freeze."

"Oh," Jorge said, no tone, not completely with it.

Picking up Jorge's diary Ricky's blood ran cold, "Jorge... Did you tell the dope test people you'd changed you plans?"

"Who?"

Moving over to the bed, leaning down, hands on Jorge's shoulder, voice firm, trying to hide his own panic, "Think! Did you, or Albert, tell the doping people that you weren't going to be in Switzerland this weekend?..... Jorge! This is serious."

"Maybe," Biting his lip Jorge shrugged, "I think I invited everyone."

"Jesus Christ man!" Ricky exploded, Jorge jumping in fright not calming him, clenching his fists by his side in a desperate bid to resist grabbing Jorge's shoulders and shaking him hard, "Jorge you could be fucking banned if you didn't. Are you listening to me? Are you even fucking there?"

"I don't understand," Lip wobbling, alcohol wearing off and hangover kicking in, wondering constantly what the _god awful_ smell was, Jorge looked up at Ricky, "Did I fuck up again?"

Going down on his knees Ricky fought back tears, panic gnawing at his stomach, speaking slowly, "Yeah mate, you might have. You need to think **_really_** hard about this... Did you tell them you were coming here? Did you tell Albert?"

"I had ice cream..." Still sounding in a day dream Jorge tilted his head to the side, "On the balcony, like we used to do." Frowning he looked at Ricky, "Wasn't night time though. Not like when me, you and Ruben would sit out there. Was day, it's not the same..."

"Jorge... This is important."

Biting his lip, clearly thinking hard, Jorge shook his head, "I wanted cereal so I washed the bowl. It sinked."

"The bowl sunk?" Ricky's eyes widened, wondering not for the first time in his life if helping Jorge was beyond him, "Where did the bowl sink?"

Pointing outside Jorge shook his head, "In the big sink. It's too big."

"You washed your bowl in the hot tub?"

Jorge frowned, some of Ricky's words clearly starting to penetrate his brain, "Did I? I think I did." Looking at Ricky, confused, Jorge shook his head, "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know mate," Ricky shrugged his shoulders, quickly wiping a leaking tear, "Why were you out on the balcony eating ice cream in pants and a t-shirt in the middle of the day?"

Biting his lip, tears building in his eyes, fear crawling over his body, Jorge shook his head, his voice higher, pitchy, "I don't know...."

"I need to phone Albert, ok?" Finding the calm tone he needed Ricky smiled gently, "We need to check you told them."

"Ricky..." Voice distinctly wobbly Jorge dropped the towel, tears pooling in his eyes, ready to drop, "I... I miss him. I love him.... It hurts so bad..."

"It's ok," Soothing him as best he could, seeing the panic rise in Jorge's eyes, Ricky put a hand on his knee, "It's ok."

"It's not," Jorge shook his head, the familiar panic, locked away for so long, hidden by happiness then pretend, bubbling inside him, tears beginning to fall, grabbing Ricky's hand and clinging to him, "Help me... Please help me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry....)


	15. Why?

"How long is that?" Peering along the hallway, the door of Alex's room ajar, the hoodie clad bundle still curled up in a ball on the bed, Tito frowned.

Hands on hip, face a picture of concern, Marc sighed, "37 hours..."

"Has he eaten at all?"

"One slice of toast."

"Drink?"

"Two bottles of water."

"That's something I suppose..." Tito sighed, knowing they couldn't leave him much longer without intervention.

"I knew this would happen," Dropping down to sit on the stairs, anger and guilt washing around his body, Marc shook his head, "I fucking knew Lorenzo would do this to him...."

"This isn't the time for that," Gently chastising him, knowing their focus needed to remain on Alex, Tito nodded, "This is what we're going to do..."

*

"Leave me alone..." Covering his eyes, curtains opening filling the room with light, Alex cursed, pulling his knees tighter to his chest, voice a weak croak from the constant crying, "Fuck off."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, putting the tray on the bedside cabinet, Marc bit his lip; Alex's eyes red and puffy, the pain he was feeling clearly visible, "No... You **need** to eat and you **need** to drink."

"Not hungry," Trying to turn over, wanting to bury himself in the bed and never surface, Alex pulled furiously away from the hand that caught his shoulder; reddened eyes flying open in a rage, "Fuck off! Just fuck off!"

"No," Seeing Marc falter, Alex's pain mirrored on his brother's face, Tito stepped in, sitting on the bed, voice firm, "We're not going to do that you. You need to have something proper to eat and you need to drink water."

"I _don't want_ anything," Alex practically spat the words at Tito, fury bubbling around him at the older two, "Just leave me alone."

"No," Still firm, happy to be the bad cop, knowing the time for Marc's good cop ability to give amazing hugs would come, Tito shook his head, "You either eat it and drink it for us or we call Roser..."

"Why would you do that?" Bereft, the look of betrayal on his face making Marc and Tito both wince, Alex's bottom lip wobbled, "Why would you do that to me?"

"Because we love you," Tito shrugged his shoulders, unapologetic, "You **need** to eat..."

*

"Don't even think about it," Taking Marc's phone from his hand, both of them in the younger's kitchen, Tito shook his head, "You need to let Alex deal with it."

Anger on his face, voice brittle, Marc snapped, "I want to know what he did to my brother..."

"And your brother will tell you when he is ready," Tito fixed Marc with a stare, "It is his relationship and his business..."

"Look at the state of him!" Anguished, Marc threw his hand in the air in the direction of Alex's room, "That bastard has **broken** him."

"Has he?" Tito shrugged his shoulders, always the calmest of the trio, "Remember the first time I rowed with my girl and came to you crying? Was that because she'd broken me or because we'd had a silly row and it only _seemed_ like the end of the world?"

"Your girl isn't Jorge Lorenzo," Marc grumbled, unable, _unwilling_ , to accept that Jorge might not be in the wrong, "I just want to help my brother..."

"Then make more soup," Tito prodded Marc's shoulder, gentle smile on his face, "Let him tell you what's going on in his own time."

*

"Hi," Appearing in the kitchen, half empty bowl in his hands, hoodie still on, eyes bright red, face pale and drawn, Alex sniffed, "Thanks for the soup."

Feeling physical pain in his chest at how sad Alex looked and sounded Marc smiled weakly, "You're welcome..."

"Sorry I was rude," Alex put his bowl in the sink, pushing out the words toward Tito before quickly swiping a stray tear with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"That's ok," Tito smiled kindly, voice much softer now, "Do you want anything else?"

"I..." Breaking down in tears, huge, heaving sobs making his body shudder as he was swamped by the other two in a double hug, Alex wailed, "I want him back... I want him back..."

*

Sitting on the kitchen floor, Alex sandwiched between them, Marc and Tito shared a look over Alex's head, the youngest with his head on his knees as his sobs began to subside, Marc squeezing his shoulder, "What happened?"

"I don't know..." Alex sobbed, words punctuated with gaspy little noises as he tried to breathe through the tears, "Everything was fine and then... I don't even know what I did... He just said... He said..."

"Hey, hey..." Hand carding through Alex's hair as he broken down, reduced once again to a trembling bundle of wailing, Tito sighed, he and Marc feeling utterly powerless to help.

"Why would he do this?" Alex wept, "Why?"


	16. Hold It Together Until Cheste

"Alright?"

Nodding at his father, the meaning of alright having changed in the weeks since he'd had his heart broken, previously it meant 'is everything good?' whereas now it means 'can you get through this without crying?', Alex zipped up his leathers, taking a deep breath, title still there, somehow despite it all, "Yeah. I can do this."

"You can," Julie smiled, biting his tongue, desperate to tell the younger of his boys just how proud he was, but knowing that could be too much, instead nodding, calm and quiet, hoping and praying that Alex wasn't about to be heartbroken twice in the same year.

*

"He did it..." Voice barely a whisper, eyes glassy with tears he fought to hold back, Jorge turned away from tv screen, Ricky next to him, "He did it..."

"He did," Ricky smiled gently, wishing he could kick some sense into him, settling instead for a pat on the shoulder, "I need to go get ready... You ok?"

"Yeah," Eyes back on the screen watching Alex celebrate his title Jorge's heart almost burst with pride, "I knew you could do it..."

Settling back down on the sofa, small amount of time to spare before getting ready for his own race, Jorge barely noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched Alex throw himself into the arms of his team, pride and heartache all melting into one, leaving him a sniffing mess, memories of the moment he had wrecked everything haunting him.

_"What do you mean it's not going to work?"_

_After three amazing days together Jorge felt like he was going to vomit as he forced the words out, "I just don't think..."_

_"It's been fucking amazing," Crossing the room, bewildered and stunned, Alex reached for Jorge's hands, hurt flashing across his face when the older man stepped back, out of reach, " **Jorge**..."_

_"It has been amazing, but we both know..."_

_"We both know that it's been amazing," Alex shook his head, battling with all his might not to cry, "So it's worth fighting for..."_

_"It won't work," Determined, breaking his own heart in the process, Jorge shrugged, "It was good while it lasted..."_

_"Good?" Stepping back, hurt, face showing the betrayal he was feeling, Alex wrapped his arms around his own waist, voice small, "It wasn't **good** Jorge, it was far, far more than good..."_

_"I think we just have to be realistic," Every instinct in his body telling him to reach out, wipe the tear from Alex's cheek with his thumb and take the younger man back to bed so that he could see that face again, the peaceful morning face that crossed with confusion as Alex worked out where he was and then the smile of happiness as he realised, Jorge shook his head, "It's not going to work. They'd never let it and we both need to focus on the season."_

_"You're a coward," Stuttering over the words, pain shuddering through his body, Alex shook his head, one last plea left in him, "Jorge.... **please**..."_

_"Good luck Alex. I really hope you win this title."_

_*_

Watching his older brother on the podium Alex couldn't help his eyes wandering to the side, the lost look on the Mallorcan's face tugging at his heart strings, a voice breaking through the fog, words escaping him, "Huh?"

"He's not worth it..." Hector smiled kindly, "He'll never change. Don't torture yourself..."

Narrowing his eyes, confused, Alex quizzed him, "Marc told you?"

"He didn't need to," Hector shrugged, voice quiet enough so not to be heard, "I know you, and I know Jorge..."

"Oh..."

"Alex I've known for months, don't worry," Supportive hand moving to the younger man's back Hector sighed hard, "Jorge is troubled, massively troubled. It doesn't matter how much you love him, it's not enough..."

"How do you..." Faltering, revelation catching him off guard, celebrations beginning in earnest behind them Alex was stunned, "You and Jorge?"

"A long time ago," Hector shrugged his shoulders ruefully, "The only person that can sort Jorge's head out is Jorge. If you go back it hurts twice as much second time round, trust me."

Watching Hector bound into the garage, the PR man painting a wide smile onto his face, better at practising the techniques he'd taught them than Alex had ever realised, Alex leant against the wall, shocked, but not really, slightly relieved at the unbiased opinion that it wasn't his fault, but mostly he felt sad.

*

Washing his hands, having a five minute break from the boring tedium of the Gala, Jorge didn't have to look up to know who'd walked in, the catch of breath and the steps faltering to a stop giving him is first clue, catching the scent of familiar aftershave giving him the confirmation, "Congratulations..."

"Pfft," Already tipsy drunk on champagne Alex scoffed, his feet frozen to the spot, his brain desperately trying to remember all of the clever and witty things he'd practised to say to Jorge in a moment like this, all of them missing, _'I want you back'_ the only thing running through his mind, "Whatever."

Watching Alex stumble toward the urinal Jorge bit his lip, endless things he wanted to say, to explain the fear; that he couldn't cope, that Alex would lose sponsorship and chances, that Jorge would let himself believe and then he'd fuck it up, that somehow the hurt in Alex's face wasn't as bad as it could have or would have been, but he couldn't bring himself to say any of it, simply nodding, accepting that he had no right to say anymore or to inflict anymore pain, "You deserved the title. I always believed you'd win it."

"How fucking dare you!" Shaking his head, words spitting out as Jorge reached for the door handle, the older man freezing, "How dare you almost trash my season, my life, and then come out with pathetic bullshit like that. _I always believed you'd win it_? Well lucky fucking you because I didn't! When I was curled up in a ball on my brothers kitchen floor crying like a fucking baby I didn't believe it... I didn't believe in anything anymore. How could I? When someone flies on a _private jet_ from their holiday to your holiday because you are sad that makes you believe. When they let you in and you spend amazing days in their house, the best days of your life, **that** makes you believe. Then they rip everything away from you and you realise you can _never_ fucking believe in anything again because it can _always_ be taken away from you...."

Biting the inside of his cheek, turning back then wishing he hadn't, the pain in Alex's face so raw and his voice so bitter, almost hatred coming across, every ounce of it fair and deserved, Jorge closed his eyes, "Alex..."

"Fuck you Jorge, fuck you are your fucking cowardice... You have _stolen_ my biggest achievement. I won the title and that should be everything, but it's not. Hold it together until Cheste, that was the goal I had to set myself. You stole my season..." Fastening his trousers, adjusting his jacket, Alex couldn't help the final barb, the need to lash out, to try and hurt Jorge as much in return, "I don't need you anyway... I've got Hector now..."

Bouncing off the wall as Alex pushed past him, worlds, memories and mistakes all colliding into a crash of pain Jorge whimpered, only just able to pull himself together enough to return to his seat, waiting for the moment he was dragged on stage with two happy people while he hated every moment of everything, another season he wished he could forget, but which he knew would haunt him forever.


	17. Need

"Alright! Alright!" Throwing open the door Hector, wearing only boxers and sleep-ruffled hair, frowned in concern, "Alex?"

Suit crumpled, medal around his neck, bottle of vodka in hand, Alex fixed the older man with a dark look, "I want you to fuck me...."

"Jesus Christ Alex!" Hauling the younger man up the step and through the door, glad his neighbours weren't staying for the test and everyone else was out celebrating the end of the season, Hector shook his head, "How fucking drunk are you? Where is Marc?"

Slamming the vodka down on the counter, making Hector wince and worry about his rental deposit, Alex dropped his jacket to the floor, "Do you want to fuck me Hector?

"Alex..." Scanning the room frantically for some more clothes, his brain sensible and planning coffee and a chat for the younger man, his boxers not hiding the fact his cock had a different opinion, Hector sighed, "You saw Jorge?"

"I fucking hate him," Starting on the buttons of his shirt, fingers uncoordinated, dark, almost black, eyes still locked on Hector, Alex crumpled his mouth like he'd tasted something nasty, "Fucking cowardly prick."

"I'll make some coffee..."

"Don't want coffee," Catching Hector's arm as he reached for the coffee machine, eyes trailing down the older man's body, quick hand reaching for the bulge in his boxers, making Hector yelp, "Want you."

"No you don't," Disentangling himself, cock more than half hard, Hector took a deep breath, "You really don't, you just want to hurt Jorge..."

"I just want someone to fuck me.... I _need_ someone to fuck me..."

"Alex..." Words cut off as the younger man launched at him, their teeth clashing as his head bounced off the wall, Hector let out a moan, Alex's wicked hands digging into his ass, pushing their crotches together, letting him feel the younger man's cock against his own, both hard as Alex bit down on his bottom lip, almost snapping his self control as his hands went to Alex's shoulders, pushing him back, voice breathy, "Alex...."

*

"What are you doing?" Ricky's voice was more of a hiss as he caught Jorge's arm, glaring at his friend, "That won't help mate..."

Shrugging, his arms still around her waist, her ass grinding against his cock, it only hard at the thought of Alex, Jorge's eyes had no sparkle, "Nothing will help..."

"Jorge..."

Shaking off Ricky's grasp, aware he was being unfair, his best friend the only reason he'd been remotely fit enough to turn up for the second half of the season, Jorge bundled her out of the door, pulling her against him as he opened the cab door, reaching to grab her ass, rough and hard, as his tongue plundered her mouth, the tiny noises escaping from her indistinguishable, her chest flat enough to almost be unnoticeable, her hair dark enough, everything just enough to get him through the night.

*

"Stop it Alex!" Pushing the taller man hard Hector licked the blood from his lip, voice crackly, "Stop it..."

Putting his hand to his lips, suddenly sobering up, Alex trembled, voice wavering as emotions welled up inside him, spilling out of his eyes, "Hector... I'm _so_ sorry... I..."

"Come on," Warm and kind Hector put his hand on Alex's back, nudging him toward the sofa, I'll put the coffee on..."

Flopping onto the offered seat Alex put his head in his hands, tears streaming, "This is supposed to be the best day of my life..."

*

"The driver..."

"Ignore him..." Drunk, angry and out of control, Jorge pulled her legs apart again, fingers pulling her knickers aside, two sliding in, thumb finding her clit, the driver's eyes widening in the mirror at the sound making Jorge chuckle low and dirty, "Dirty girl..."

*

Putting his coffee cup down Alex looked shamefaced, "I'm so sorry Hector..."

"It's ok..."

"It's not," Genuine remorse on his face Alex closed his eyes, "I... God you must think I'm such a dick."

"I don't," Putting his own cup on the table Hector patted Alex's knee, "I don't think you are a dick Alex, you're just hurting."

"I just..." Blushing bright red Alex cringed, "Christ I don't even know how to explain it without sounding like an even bigger dick... I just... When we were all celebrating for Marc in Japan I thought... In the bar... We... I..."

"We nearly kissed..."

"Yeah," Eyes shut, able to remember everything about Hector that night, the tight black shirt, the tiny beads of sweat running down his neck, the lines around his eyes when he laughed, Alex bit his lip, "You looked so fucking good that night..."

"Thanks," Hector coughed, embarrassed, his cock stirring again, "Look Alex..."

"It wasn't just about Jorge," Words flying out his mouth like a train Alex shrugged, "I wanted to celebrate and I... I trust you and you are kind of hot and... Please don't tell Marc the real reason when tomorrow you decide you can't work for us anymore, he'll kill me..."

"I'm not going quit because you called me _'kind of hot'_ Alex," Hector laughed softly, wishing he'd had more beer, wishing Alex would stop looking at him like _that_ , with the eyes he would never admit picturing occasionally while he wanked, "Look Alex..."

"I know. I'm just a kid yadda yadda..." Jumping up, Alex wanted the ground to open up and swallow him so he could die without an audience, "I'm so sorry Hector..."

"Alex," Springing out of his seat, blocking Alex's path, Hector licked his lip at the way Alex's eyes widened as they caught the bulge in his boxers; reaching out with one hand, letting his fingers trail along Alex's jaw Hector's voice changed, dropping deeper, "Please don't tell Marc the real reason when tomorrow you tell him he has to sack me, he'll kill me..."

Whimpering softly as Hector's mouth pressed against his, the older man's hands on his face, holding and guiding him, Alex sighed, the movement letting Hector's tongue slip into his mouth, finding his, teasing it into a tangling duel, his arms going around Hector's waist, smirking at the growl as his fingers dug into the bare skin of Hector's back, the kiss getting harder, sharper and more as they tumbled onto the sofa, any sensibilities long gone.

*

Ignoring the nagging voice at the back of his brain Jorge yanked her knickers down, the sound of the flimsy material tearing echoing around his motorhome, as his mouth latched back onto her neck, his cock pushing against her ass through the material of his joggers, her chest pressed against the wall, them barely in the door before he pounced, his hands tugging and pulling her clothes up, aside or off, determined and intent on mauling her body with his fingers and mouths, fumbling around in the cabinet for supplies, desperation making him need and want _now_.

Finding what he needed he put them on the counter, letting his mouth work her neck as he growled dirty words in her ear, pleased her reaction was to push back against him, her knowing it was a onetime thing, him not caring that she'd likely sell it, Jorge trailed one hand between her legs, two fingers pushing in, rough and quick, before spinning them round, pressing her over the counter, nudging her legs apart as he tore open the condom, hissing as he rolled it over his hardness, giving himself two pumps before slamming into her as hard, rough and fast as he'd promised in the cab, needing to let go and forget.

*

"Fucking hell, _Alex_..." Hector shivered, his lungs burning as he held his breath, the image of Alex sinking down onto his cock; the concentration on his face, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tight and tense as he used them to steady himself, his legs trembling as his thighs controlled the pace, letting Hector slide into him slowly, adjusting to the burn before moving again, surrounding the older Spaniard some more, making him curse loud, until he finally bottomed out, Alex pausing, catching his breath and adjusting, Hector reaching up to pull him into a sloppy, messy kiss, helping Alex relax until he was ready, steadying himself with his hands on Hector's chest, Hector's hands on his hips, both of them pausing for a second, eyes together, before Alex moved, wailing loud as Hector instantly found his prostate, resistance snapping as they filled the room with the sound of skin slapping, curses falling as they rocked together, needy, messy and loud.


	18. Regrets

"Oh my god... Oh my god... What have you done? Jesus Christ what have you done..."

Opening his eyes, confused for a second, Alex sat bolt upright, reaching out, concerned, "Hector..."

"I'm so sorry... God _Alex_ I..." Eyes wide, face pink with shame, Hector ran his fingers through his hair, it tousled from Alex's tugging, the sheets rumpled, and both of them sporting small bruises and the occasional mark from nippy teeth, "I am so sorry..."

Shuffling across the bed, legs going either side of Hector, the older man sat on the edge looking like he was about to cry, Alex frowned, "Why are _you_ sorry? I'm the one that came here and..."

"You were drunk and I.... Fuck I should have known better..."

"Don't do that," Eyes darkening, Alex shook his head, annoyed, "Don't do the whole older thing... I'm not a kid. I knew what I wanted when I came here..."

"Yeah, but you were drunk, and you were upset and I..."

"I'm not a fucking Princess that needs protecting Hector..." Alex reached out, turning Hector's head until the older man was forced to look at him, "I wanted to be with someone last night and I knew that I could trust you...  If anyone took advantage here it was me..."

"Alex..." Hector started, but got interrupted, Alex ignoring morning breath and pressing their mouths together, soft, careful, tongue pushing gently at Hector's bottom lip until the older man sighed into the kiss, letting him in, Alex's point made, worries not gone, but different.

*

"Where the fuck is he?"

Looking up, spoon in hand, still munching his breakfast, Ricky shrugged, "Garage?"

"Already checked," Artur cursed under his breath, "One more day. That's _all_ he had to do, behave for **one** more day..."

Pausing his eating, concerned, Artur normally unflappable, Ricky frowned, "Is this about the girl from last night?"

"Yep," Artur opened his iPad, showing Ricky the email, the story already sold, "He called her the wrong name....

Shaking his head Ricky cursed, "They are going to be on the lookout for _Jorge's ex-girlfriend Alex_ now..."

"If anyone ever adds two and two accurately..." Artur sighed hard, shaking his head, grimacing like he had a bad taste in his mouth, "And Ximena's mother and father may discover over breakfast tomorrow that their daughter had anal sex with a MotoGP rider..."

Putting his spoon down Ricky sighed, "Why would you sell that detail? I mean _really_ who needs to know that about their daughter or sister?"

*

"Alex..." Hector laughed softly, pulling away, tiny trail of saliva caught between their lips, Alex smirking, "You need to get ready... Not like that!!!"

Chuckling, low and dirty, at Hector's blushing reaction to his quirked eyebrow, Alex pecked another kiss to Hector's lips, "You are so fucking cute when you blush..."

"Cute," Hector wrinkled his nose, unimpressed, " _Great_..."

"I can think of more words if you like," Fingers trailing up Hector's spine, biting his lip at the way goosebumps appeared on the older man's skin, emboldened by the reaction, Alex pressed a kiss to his shoulder, peppering his words with kisses, "Handsome... Intelligent... Athletic... Enthusiastic... _Big_..."

"Stop it!" Blushing again Hector stole a quick kiss before getting up, pulling the top sheet around his waist, holding up a finger, "You need to get ready... You are getting your turn on big bro's bike today..."

"Yessssss," Alex flopped back onto the bed, grin that outshone his brother's by several kilowatts, "MotoGP bike!!"

"Go get in the shower, you can't turn up stinking of sex..."

"Hector..."

"We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Yeah..." Getting out of bed, not bothering with the sheet, unashamed, Hector's glances making him feel confident, Alex stole another kiss, "I hope we'll do more than talk..."

*

"Artur is looking for you," Sliding into the chair next to Jorge, the older man hiding in Yamaha's hospitality area, Ricky winced at the grimace on Jorge's face, "She sold..."

Jorge shrugged, impassive and gloomy, "Knew she would."

"Then why?" Ricky questioned him, irritated, "Why set yourself up for more shit?"

Looking at his friend and ex, eyes rimmed red, Jorge looked utterly defeated, voice barely more than a whisper, "Because he might as well hate me for a reason."

" _Jorge_..." Ricky sounded weary and concerned, "Please don't hit self destruct. There's nothing to be achieved by that. You really pulled it together these past couple of months..."

"I miss him," Jorge closed his eyes, obviously fighting back the tears, all of his usual spark completely gone, "I miss him so much Ricky and he hates me..."

"Did you see him last night? At the gala?"

Jorge nodded, making Ricky sigh again, "He called me a coward, and he's right... I am a coward... I love him Ricky, I actually love him and I've wrecked it. He's got someone else and I..."

"You need to wallow in self-pity a little bit?" Sharper than intended, gaining him an incredulous look from his friend, Ricky shook his head, "You need to pull yourself together, you might have lost Alex..."

"I have lost Alex..."

"And if you don't pull your head out of your arse and stop fucking about with random gold diggers then you are going to lose fucking everything mate. **Everything**."

*

"Time for Honda's PR stunt..." Wilco rolled his eyes, missing the way Jorge's were locked on the screen, Alex rolling out of the garage on Marc's bike, his reward for winning being played out in front of them all, "What a palaver..."

Eyes still on the screen, instinctively twitching and moving as Alex took his first corner on the bigger bike, he and Marc line astern on the track, Jorge knowing how much the younger men would be loving being on track together, celebrating Alex's victory, a stabbing feeling in his guts as he remembered Alex's harsh words, praying he hadn't stolen everything.

*

**_EXCLUSIVE - Read all about Jorge Lorenzo's kinky sex session after the glittering end of season gala exclusively in tomorrow's first edition._ **

*****

Jorja                            I'm sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen.

X                                   Who is this?

Throwing his phone aside Jorge slid down the wall, beer bottle in hand, tears rolling down his face, wishing the season could just be over, wanting to be anywhere other than where he was.


	19. Cervera Goes Down

"Dance..."

"I don't dance..."

"It's my party and I say you dance..."

"I don't dance," Hector chuckled, the effect of the EG not 00 making him gigglier than normal, shaking his head, "And don't bat your eyelids at me Alex Marquez, I do **not** dance..."

Tilting his head to the side, eyes moving to a pretty blonde who'd been giving him the eye for most of the night, "If you don't dance with me I'll have to ask someone else to dance..."

"Fine," Hector shrugged, looking Alex up and down, "I'm not threatened by a busty blonde... I know what you like..."

"Fine," Alex pouted, before shooting the older man the dirtiest of looks as he walked away, whispering in the ear of the girl, her out of her seat toward the dance floor before Alex had barely finished asking, Alex pulling her back to his chest as they found the rhythm of the music, his eyes on Hector over her head, huffing slightly as the older man, not threatened at all, simply grinned and opened another can of beer.

*

"Cervera is going down...." Jorge laughed sadly, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, bottle of vodka by his side, back against the perspex wall of the balcony, cold Swiss wind whipping around his legs, shorts and t-shirt not the best attire for Switzerland in November, as he scrolled through his phone, more and more photographs appearing on social media, the party in Cervera in full swing.

*

"Alex..."

"Hector..." Ignoring the warning tone in the other man's voice Alex grinned wickedly, alcohol and confidence surging through his body enough to make him risk it, pushing Hector against the wall, latching his mouth to his neck, hand going straight for his groin, deft fingers determined to bring the half hard cock fully to life despite the fact that only a thin door separated them from the rest of the celebrating crowd.

Cursing as Alex's nimble fingers made light work of his zipper and pushed into his trousers, bypassing his boxers, cool fingers instantly wrapping around his cock, giving him no time to think, making his hips cant away from the wall, into the fist, a low whimper falling from his mouth as Alex's hand started to move, " _Alex_... Fuck..."

"I love the way you can't resist me," Licking his way into Hector's mouth Alex swallowed up the groans as his wrist flicked, and the wail when his thumb swiped over the head, collecting the pre-cum gathered and used it as lube for his sliding hand, before kissing down his jaw, tiny nips to the skin making the older man curse and swear as his balls tightened and he choked out the word _'close'_ , Alex not slowing or stopping, confidently moving until Hector groaned and spurted warm liquid all over his hand.

Groaning some more, the sight of Alex licking his hand clean, eyes locked on him, Hector cursed, "God you are lethal Marquez."

"I know," Alex winked, tongue running along his lip, making sure there was no trace left, "Time to get back and party... Dance?"

*

Jorge                                              Look after him. I know I've a cheek given I was a cunt to you and an even bigger cunt to him, but please look after him. I'm going to retire. So he'll not have to deal with seeing me around. Just look after him, please.

Hector                                           You weren't a cunt to me, you just didn't love me. Are you injured? The shoulder?

Jorge                                              No.  The shoulder is fine.

Hector                                           So why are you retiring?

Jorge                                              It's just time.

"Shit..." Sitting down, bottle of beer in hand, stunned as the penny dropped, Hector swallowed hard, looking up from his phone screen to watch Alex, involved in some sort of weird dance with his brother, Santi and Guille, no-one in the room other than the four drunks with any idea what their routine was supposed to be, realisation that Jorge was retiring because of Alex making his head spin, unable to imagine Jorge without racing, and in many ways the paddock without Jorge.

Hector                                           You still love him?

Jorge                                              Look after him. Please.

*

"The question of the season is this though...." One finger in the air, wobbly through drink, Santi nodded, "Who is the illusive ex-girlfriend of Lorenzo....?"

Sobering slightly Alex frowned, "What do you mean?"

"In the article, you know the one... The girl who decided the world needed to know that Jorge did her up the arse," Santi shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image, "She said that he called her after his ex girlfriend, Alex, hehe _Alex_ , twice..."

Looking quickly at Hector and Marc, their faces confirming it, Alex laughed, slightly more hysterically than he meant too, voice wobbly, "Who cares?"

"True..." Santi nodded sagely, "I'm just wondering if there really are two women daft enough to go with him?"

Laughing at Santi laughing at his own joke, sound entirely fake, Alex's brain whirred, hating the fact that the mere mention of Jorge's name was enough to reduce him to almost tears, "Back in a sec..."

*

Ricky                                              Hector just text me. Is it true?

Jorge                                              It's time.

Ricky                                              Bullshit. It's time that you swallowed your pride, called Alex and told him the truth.

Jorge                                              I can't.

Ricky                                              So you'll sacrifice your future rather than be honest with him?

Jorge                                              I'll sacrifice everything rather than hurt him again.

*

"Alex..." Opening the bathroom door Marc cursed, the sight of his brother leaning over the sink, face pale, eyes dribbling tears, infuriating him, "Fuck him Alex, don't let him fucking spoil this. He's a prick."

Alex nodded, mutely agreeing, inside his heart screaming _'he isn't'_ , "I know."

"Come back to the party..." Marc gave him a cheeky grin, "You've got Hector now..."

Looking up, stunned, Alex's jaw dropped, "How did..."

"You're my brother, I know you..." Marc laughed dirtily, "We heard you, me and Santi. Santi doesn't know it was you..."

"Right..." Floundering, Alex shrugged, having expected Marc to be furious, "It's not serious. Well, maybe it is. I don't really know."

"As long as it's not fucking Lorenzo I don't care," Marc nodded, before crinkling his face up in disgust, "Though I **never** want to hear you say his name like that again..."

*

"Stay?" Back against the wall, voice almost a whisper, Alex bit his lip, "Marc knows, he's cool with it. Mama and Papa are staying away so we have the place to ourselves... Stay with me?"

Hector bit his lip, ready to decline, before making the mistake of looking up, the dark eyes reeling him in, making him nod, "Yeah. Ok..."

*

"Wait... Alex..." Disentangling himself from Alex's long limbs Hector sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, emotions torn in two; for himself wanting to turn around, devour the younger man, somehow convince him that they worked, that they were enough for each other, but his feelings for the younger making it impossible, not wanting him to settle for second best, "There's something you should know..."

"What?" Sitting up, frowning in concern, Alex bit his lip, "What's wrong?"

"I can give you two things tonight..." Hector looked at the floor, unable to trust himself to be honest if he looked at him, "I can either think of myself and fuck you into the mattress, and _christ_ knows I really want to do that...."

"Right..." Alex narrowed his eyes, pulling the duvet around him, air chilling, "Or?"

"Or," Picking up his jeans, Hector pulled out a slip of paper, holding it in his fingers, "Or I can do the right thing, give you this and tell you..."

"Tell me what? What's going on?"

"Jorge is retiring," The gasp of breath from the younger man going through him, like a knife to the guts, Hector bit his cheek before continuing, "He's not injured... He called that girl by your name, _twice_.... And now he's retiring because... Because he thinks it's better if you don't have to see him around."

"Oh," Brain reeling, no idea what to say, Alex's eyes were drawn to the paper in Hector's hand, "What's the paper?"

"Here..." Hector handed him the paper, holding his hand for a second, finally brave enough to look up, "You have to do what is right for you Alex..."

Opening the paper Alex froze, his heart beating faster than on the starting grid.

**Jorge's Swiss Apartment**

**6 Via Calprino**

**6900 Paradiso**

**Lugano**


	20. Life Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well it’s finally done! This has been a weird one for me. I LOVE these two, but I’ve struggled at times to get this out. I suspect one ay I’ll go back to them, but for now it’s done. Thank you for reading, listening to me moan, waiting for updates and every comment you’ve made xxx

_December 13th 2024 - Mexico_

"You ready?"

Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Alex took a deep breath, nerves, good ones, making his hands shake, "Ready as I'll ever be..."

"It's time..."

Alex groaned at his brother, "It's not time..."

"It is time," Marc grinned, his wide, almost demonic, trademark grin, "On three..."

"Please don't..."

"Beeeeecause...." Marc cackled before bursting into song, "We're go-oing to the chaapel and we're gonna get maaaried..."

*

_November 16th 2014 - Cervera_

"Why would you give me this?" Eyes wide, young, and confused, voice barely more than a whisper, Alex looked at Hector, silently begging him to make the decision for him, to take the paper away, scrunch it up and confine Jorge to history, "Why? I thought you..."

"I do..." Hector closed his eyes, torn between doing right and doing right for him, "No-one in the world will be happier than me if you chuck away that paper and tell me I'm enough..."

"Hector..."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it..." Opening his eyes, looking up at Alex, both of them almost in tears, Hector smiled gently, reaching out, running his thumb across the younger man's cheek, "You're beautiful... And you are kind, and tough, and competitive, and passionate and a million more good things..."

"So why send me away?" Almost broken, pushing his face into Hector's hand, confused, "Why?"

"Because you deserve what you want," Cupping Alex's face with both hands Hector smiled through tumbling tears, "Because you deserve to love as much as you are loved..."

"You..."

"I deserve that too..." Pressing their foreheads together, Hector closed his eyes again, certain he was doing the right thing even though it was breaking his own heart, "I love you and it's ok if you don't love me..."

*

_December 13th 2024 - Mexico_

"Cigar?" Marc proffered up a cigar from one of the pockets of his ridiculously expensive suit, laughing at Alex's raised eyebrow, "It's my only brother's wedding day... If I can't break the odd rule today then when can I?

"You're retiring, aren't you?"

"No..." Marc shrugged, smiling, before frowning, slightly annoyed and frustrated, "How can you _always_ guess these things?"

"I know you," Alex chuckled, saddened at the potential loss of his brother travelling with him, but understanding the reasons why, "You've had dessert **and** beer every night this week..."

"You should have been a policeman..."

"I wanted to be a policeman when I was little... I think it was the blue light..."

"I thought you wanted to be an astronaut," Marc tilted his head, smiling, lost in the memories, "This will be the first time we live in different countries..."

"It will..." Alex sighed wistfully, "I'll miss you..."

"You'll be too busy having newlywed sex to miss me..." Marc chuckled, "I'll miss you though..."

"You'll be too busy changing stinky nappies to miss me," Alex laughed.

"That's why I'll miss you..."

*

_November 17th 2014 - Lugarno_

**To:** JarvisL@yamahamotogp.com

 **From:** LorenzoJ@yamahamotogp.com

 **Date:** November 17th 2014 03:35

 **Subject:** Meeting

Hi Lin.

Can we please arrange a meeting asap to discuss my contract? I wish to activate the exit clause as soon as possible for personal reasons. If I must then I will race for the 2015 season. Jorge

*

_November 17th 2014 - Cervera_

"Ssh..." Laying back, pulling the whimpering bundle with him, Hector wept softly, Alex's confusion and heartache making everything seem worse, "Try and get some sleep Alex, things will seem brighter in the morning..."

"I don't know what to do," Beyond bewildered, his brain racing at top speed, everything confusion, Alex hung to Hector, like a lost child clinging to their rescuer, "I don't know what to do..."

"You don't have to decide right now..." Pressing a kiss to his forehead, fingers drawing soothing patterns on his back, Hector shushed him gently, cradling him in his arms like precious cargo, his brain remitting all of the little details to memory just in case he never had him here again; his smell, the feel of his skin, the little kink in his hair that never sat quite right, the softness of his lips as he looked up and pressed their mouths together and the hint of salt on their tongues as they tangled, soft and languid, the kiss not leading, just comforting, needing and there.

*

_December 13th 2024 - Mexico_

@marcmarquez93                    _Img.pic_ Congratulations to my brother and my brother-in-law on their wedding day!! Me, Sofia  & Ramon are so, so happy for you!! xx

*

_November 17th 2014 - Cervera_

Sitting down on the garden step Marc frowned, his head bursting with hangover, "What's wrong?"

"If I say nothing will you believe me?" Wriggling his toes, being outside in November sockless and shoeless not the best idea, Alex smiled sadly at Marc's shake of the head, "Hector gave me something last night..."

Marc pulled a face, somewhere between a grimace and a smirk, "I have to work with him, I'm not sure I should hear this..."

"Not like that," Sounding tired and devoid of any emotion Alex reached into his pocket, pulling out the piece of paper, ignoring Marc's curse when he spotted what it was, the address committed to memory so it mattering not when the paper was torn into tiny pieces, "He loves me..."

"He doesn't," Marc spat, furious, "If he loved you he'd have treated you better..."

"Hector," Alex corrected, mournful and sad, "Hector loves me."

"That's not good?" Marc was confused, not just because of his hangover, "You like Hector so surely that is a good thing?"

"I do like Hector..."

"So the problem is?"

Wide-eyed, earning every syllable of his Bambi nickname, Alex's bottom lip wobbled, one fat tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek, "But I love Jorge..."

*

_December 13th 2024 - Mexico_

"Hey..." Getting to the end of the aisle, in reality just a space between some chairs, no music, just him and Marc, walking to his new beginning Alex beamed, "You made it then..."

"Yeah," Shrugging, pretending to be nonchalant when his heart was racing at 500mph, the shorter man smiled, "I made it..."

"Gentlemen, are we ready?"

"Yes," Eyes locked on Alex, both of them happy and proud, he nodded, "We're ready..."

*

_November 21st 2014 - Lugano_

"Alex..." Stunned, opening the door expecting to pay for a pizza with dubious ingredients, Jorge's jaw dropped, his ability to speak abandoning him, "Alex..."

Hands trembling, only able to get to the front door by the frightening speed that the taxi meter had been clicking at, Alex bit his lip, "Is it true?"

"What?" Still bewildered, the money for the pizza feeling clammy and cold in his hand, Jorge barely pushed the word out.

Fidgeting with the cuff of his hoodie Alex sounded younger than his years, feeling vulnerable, "Are you leaving MotoGP because of me?"

"Does it matter?" Hesitant and nervous Jorge shrugged, confused as to why the younger man was there.

"Of course it matters," Barely whispering Alex closed his eyes, fighting back the tears, "It matters so much..."

" _Alex_..." Instinctively reaching out to wipe the tear from Alex's cheek before pulling his hand back like he'd been scalded, Jorge stepped back, "You should go..."

"Tell me you don't love me..." Eyes opening, posture more defiant and determined, Alex pleaded with him, "Tell me you don't love me and I'll walk away forever..."

"Alex please..."

"Tell me you don't love me and I'll go back to Spain and make myself love Hector..." Alex fixed his eyes on Jorge's, "I just need to know... You owe me that much surely?"

*

_December 13th 2024 - Mexico_

"We did it..." Back against the door that he'd just locked Alex grinned, holding his hand out in front of him, gold band glistening on his finger, "We made it..."

"We did..." Dumping his jacket over a chair the older man walked over to his husband, pausing when their faces were just an inch apart, "We made it..."

Biting his lip, surge of emotions going through his body, Alex let out a whimper, " _Jorge_...."

"I'm here baby," Leaning up, pressing a soft kiss to Alex's mouth, Jorge smiled, "I'm here and I'm never going anywhere ever again...."

Crashing their mouths together Alex growled as his husband's hands slid around his waist, fingers instantly going to his ass, digging in, intent clear as his tongue pushed into Alex's mouth, marauding around, dominant, bossy and _there_.

*

_November 21st 2014 - Lugano_

"Alex..." Jorge shook his head, uncomfortable and nervous, voice desolate, stomach churning, "Hector... Hector is better for you..."

"That's not your decision..."

"Alex..."

"All I'm asking for is honesty," Alex asked, indignant and irritated, "Surely that is not too much to ask?"

"I..."

"You can't even do that...." Alex shook his head, incensed at Jorge's cowardice and humiliated that he was there and Jorge couldn't even be honest with him, "Forget it..."

*

_November 22nd 2014 - Milano-Malpensa Airport_

Nursing his coffee Alex bit his lip hard, the taste of blood mingling in his mouth, feeling tormented and rejected, praying his flight wouldn't be delayed any longer, just wanting to get home, getting up when his flight was called, finally able to escape the hell of the past 48 hours.

"Alex!!"

Turning Alex shook his head, tears stinging his eyes, ignoring the other man dashing toward him.

"Alex, wait!" Jumping over several seats, well aware he was causing a scene and attracting attention, Jorge grabbed his arm as he reached the gate, breathless, "Please... Wait..."

Wrestling his arm free Alex shook his head, "I have to go... My flight..."

"Please, five minutes..." Jorge begged, not caring who could hear, " _Please_...."

"Sir, are you boarding?"

Looking between Jorge and the staff member, Alex opened and closed his mouth three times, baffled and perplexed by the turn of events.

"Sir?"

" _Please_ Alex..." Pushy and desperate Jorge begged, " _Please_..."

"Sir?"

"No," Clarifying his words, originally meant for Jorge, then changing at the devastation crossed the older man's face, Alex turned to the woman, "14C, no luggage, sorry..."

"No problem Sir..."

"Five minutes..."

"Five minutes..." Leading them away from the gate, unsure where he was leading them too, Jorge practised his words in his head, knowing that he'd fucked up beyond belief and that everything he wanted for his future, on and off track, were reliant on getting this right, he stopped, a gap appearing in the busy crowd, holding his hand up to apologise when Alex clattered into the back of him, turning to him, "I love you..."

*

_December 13th 2024 - Mexico_

"I have something for you..." Reaching over to the bedside cabinet, sheet slipping down, everything exposed to his new husband, Jorge laughed at the low whistle and cheeky giggle from Alex, "Not like that..."

"Jorge..." Alex sighed, shaking his head, "We said no presents..."

"It's only a little present... Just an envelope..." Rolling onto his side, handing Alex the envelope, Jorge watched him, the way his face changed and reacted as he read the document inside.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously..."

"But..."

"But nothing... Oof!" Laughing into the hug he was attacked with Jorge pressed a kiss to Alex's mouth, "You don't want to be in Switzerland when your nephew and new little niece or nephew is in Andorra..."

"But..."

"Alex..." Jorge bit his lip, emotional, "You mean everything to me... The day you turned up on my doorstep you saved me, from myself mostly, but you saved me... And you gave me everything I have ever wanted in life. I love you, and I'll always regret that I didn't tell you that sooner or more often."

"Jorge..." Alex faltered, opting instead to chuck the paper work aside, straddle his husband and attack him with a kiss full of teeth and tongue, intentions clear, desire clearer, life complete.


End file.
